


Tin Roof

by captainmeow



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Crockercorp (Homestuck), Explicit Language, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Self-Harm, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainmeow/pseuds/captainmeow
Summary: On April 13th, Jane Crocker wanted to celebrate her twentieth birthday with baked goods, dancing, and a classic movie (or two.) Instead, she undertook the responsibility of founding Crockercorp's first mercenary organization, courtesy of her infamous, unapproachable mother, the Condesce. As it turned out, it was one of the best birthday gifts she had ever received.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Interview: Roxy Lalonde

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Crockercorp.  
> You have been enlisted into a special, reserved force. Your sole purpose is to fulfill your orders. Obedience is the path to success. Your sacrifices serve a higher purpose, a better end, and we appreciate your dedication to our goals.
> 
> You have been given a designated room. Refer to the attached instructions regarding location and access. This room is yours to govern however you see fit. You will be given privacy within, with exception of inspection at your employer's discretion.
> 
> All payments are guaranteed following a successful mission. Submit reports no later than one week after completion. Absence of a report will be considered failure and will be punished accordingly. All missions must be completed to your employer's satisfaction or you will be dismissed.
> 
> In order to efficiently assist and monitor your progress, a chip has been provided for you to insert into yourself. A technician is available to help you with this task should it prove difficult to accomplish on your own. We understand that the chip may become dislodged or worn through regular activity, and will schedule routine checkups to ensure optimal maintenance.
> 
> Any necessary supplies will be provided at request of your employer. Any injuries or illnesses may be reviewed and treated by an approved physician.
> 
> When you agree to all of the above terms and conditions, fill out the form and sign below.

**April 13th  
Agenda: Interview Roxy Lalonde**

It was more appropriate that the agenda be a birthday celebration, Jane thought. Her calendar marked April 13th, today's date, with a large red circle. Today, she turned twenty, and there had been plans of lemon-pistachio cake, dancing, and old movies. Those plans had involved only herself, as Jane was a Crocker and Crockers could not afford the vulnerability of public relations such as friendships, but they were good plans and should have taken place since mid-morning.

Jane's mother, overbearing and self-absorbed as any other day, had vetoed all traditional birthday plans a young lady might be wont to do, and instead had chosen today to establish yet another security measure designed to prevent assassination attempts on Jane's life. Or so Jane assumed.

_"Today, Crockercorp is founding a mercenary organization consisting of three individuals that I have meticulously chosen. I advise you to personally interview them as you are now the overseer of this group. Use them to accomplish appropriate tasks at your discretion. I have attached the terms and conditions of their enrollment, as well as all related information pertaining to their housing (I recommend titling it Chez Crocker) so you are aware of the details of their contracts. Inspect Chez Crocker and send me a report on your findings by the end of the week.  
Oh yeah. Happy Birthday. Consider this organization my gift to you. Name it whatever you wish."_

A tasteless gift, but perhaps it was the thought that counted. Still, it only meant more work, and on her birthday… Jane sighed at the message. The birthday wishes were an afterthought, and there wasn't even a signature one might expect from a doting mother. No "Love, Mom" or "Your Biggest Fan" or even a "Sincerely" at the end! There was only the unspoken expectation that there was always more Crockercorp work to be done, and as the heiress, Jane was demanded of more than anyone else.

Before she had time to properly mourn the loss of another hopeful birthday, her phone rang with what was meant to be a light-hearted jangle. It currently irritated an already sour mood, and Jane was quick to answer it. Anything to interrupt the bells and whistling.

"Hello, this is Jane."

"Good morning, Miss Crocker. This is your appointed secretary at Chez Crocker. I'm calling to inform you of an interview scheduled for you in an hour. Will you be able to make it?"

As the heir, Jane had command of certain rights and freedoms. She could easily cancel all of her appointments for the day and indulge herself with her birthday plans after all. No one would question or challenge her--at least, not until her mother caught wind of it. It was impossible to think of disobeying her mother. The weight of disappointment alone was often insufferable.

Careful not to reveal her disdain, Jane confirmed her appointment and set about sprucing herself up to look suitable for such a meeting before booking transportation to Chez Crocker.

Perhaps a blouse and pencil skirt would do. The old standby. Or why not break out the business suit for the founding of the… well, the organization didn't have a name yet. A suit was a bit overkill, too. What about the cardigan dress? Yes, that looked flattering but still professional enough, and it held just enough of a fancy touch for a lady's special day.

Robed in the sky-blue cardigan dress with matching heels and a portfolio in hand, Jane felt decently equipped to conduct the interview. When the transportation arrived, a white sedan with uncomfortably warm leather seats, Jane slipped into the back seat and took advantage of the car ride to read the attachments her mother had included in the "birthday" message.

The contract involved the typical relinquishing of normal privacy and rights that Crockercorp often imposed on its employees. Being that this was apparently a special task force specifically for Jane, the security and surveillance details were rather extreme, if unsurprising. As unnecessary as Jane found it, she liked to think that this was a way for her mother to show concern for her daughter, as little if anything was ever left to chance. Better to think that than acknowledge that it was more likely yet another measure to ensure Crockercorp's prized heiress was safe.

There was just enough time to skim the housing details--dozens of pages brimming with information about a recently acquired and renovated hotel-- and then they had arrived.

For a freshly renovated building, Chez Crocker still had the appearance of a well maintained but relatively outdated hotel. With a stucco exterior, large windows, and quaint landscaping here and there, it was unassuming enough. Any outsider would be hard pressed to recognize it as a menacing property of Crockercorp.

The front doors mechanically slid open upon sensing her approach, and Jane entered into the lobby with an air of dignity, heels clicking on dark marble flooring. Where there should have been a receptionist at the counter was instead presumably the secretary who had earlier phoned about the interview, a middling woman with frizzy hair and a faded suit that a second glance might find almost too tight.

"Welcome, Miss Crocker," the woman tittered, all nerves as she bent in an awkward bow.

"Please, none of that." Jane withheld a sigh and mentally gave herself a onceover. Everything seemed in place. She had her portfolio. Her clothes were smooth and her face pleasant. "It appears we still have about fifteen minutes until the interview. Are you familiar enough with the grounds to give me a quick tour?"

"Yes, of course!"

The woman would likely do anything Jane asked, as far as dropping to the ground and licking her shoes. Employment at Crockercorp never came without sworn loyalty to its head, a phrase which inevitably meant signing away one's autonomy. It was an issue Jane intended to address and change once she inherited the company, but sometimes it was necessary to allow unsightly weeds and broken windows if it meant closing on valuable real estate. Raising a fuss now would profit nothing but unwanted attention from her mother.

"Before we get started, what's your name?"

"Sarah-Joan, Miss Crocker, but I go by either Sarah or Joan."

"Do you have a preference?"

"I…" It was plain the wheels were turning, her secretary debating over how honest she could be. Fortunately, honesty was a priority for Jane.

"Don't hesitate to be honest with me, please. I'd rather you offend me than lie."

"I prefer Sarah-Joan, Miss Crocker. My parents couldn't decide between the two, so they gave me both, and it's a nice way to remember them."

The implications of honoring deceased parents were bittersweet, but it did cause a genuine smile on Jane's face.

"Well then, Sarah-Joan, it's nice to meet you. I'd prefer it if you called me Jane from now on."

"Oh, I couldn't--"

"I insist."

After a moment, an understanding settled on Sarah-Joan's face, and the woman straightened herself.

"Of course, Miss Jane."

Jane supposed some compromises could be made.

"Shall we go, then?"

"Right away, Miss Jane!"

The ground floor--the entire building--was deceptively large. Past the lobby and sitting room were a series of small offices which Jane learned to be kept available for various appointments such as the interview today. Two large briefing rooms could be found on either side of a hallway that then opened into a small sitting room where bathrooms were located. Sarah-Joan led her through to the supplies center, a spacious and overwhelmingly white room with ceiling-high shelves, all stocked with linens and boxes, and more than two dozen collapsible tables littered the rest of the space. Mail and other deliveries were meant to be deposited and collected there. Back into the corridor, they looped around to an impressive medical facility, currently locked but assuredly staffed with top quality physicians and the best equipment. Sarah-Joan was most excited to introduce her to the fitness and training facilities, which offered an exhaustive array of equipment and technological features that left Jane's head swimming by the time they returned to the lobby.

"Thank you for the tour, Sarah-Joan," Jane said with an extended hand. Sarah-Joan briefly regarded the limb like a startled animal before she took it and they shook hands. It was important to remember that they were just people.

"Of course, Miss Jane. Will there be anything else?"

At this moment, the front doors parted to reveal a thin, blond woman, escorted by two guards. Dressed in a baggy jacket, worn jeans, and sneakers, it was hard to imagine this was the candidate for the interview, but as the young woman was right on schedule and there was no one else, who else could it be?

"That will be all, Sarah-Joan, thank you." Jake turned to their guest and willed herself not to fidget. There was a wild look in the blond's eyes that was too eerily similar to a predator stalking through the underbrush. "Welcome to… Chez Crocker. I assume you're here for the interview?"

Chez Crocker it was, then.

"Yeah, guess so," the other woman replied lightly, eyes floating around the lobby. "You the one doing the interviewing?"

"Yes. I'm Jane."

When Jane held out her hand for a handshake, she received a tight squeeze that caused her to wince despite herself.

"Roxy."

"Nice to meet you, Roxy. Please follow me." There was relief as Jane pulled her hand back, free from a grip that had been unexpectedly strong. It put her on edge to turn her back to someone supposedly a mercenary--there was an implicit image of loose-moraled renegades--but it gave off the impression that she was untouchable, confident in the two escorts, to lead the way as if there was not a hint of danger about her.

They walked in silence to an office. Jane fingered the surface of her portfolio as she stepped to the other side of a long, glossy table, and seated herself at one end. Roxy followed the example, but simply dropped into the chair nearest to the door.

As soon as Jane had announced that they would begin the interview, the two guards suddenly dismissed themselves, and she was left behind closed doors with Roxy. There was an unsettling quiet for just a breath before Jane extracted some paperwork from a folder and recited from it.

"Roxy Lalonde, age 19, born in New York."

"That's me." Roxy grinned at her and, both arms braced against the surface of the table, leaned forward. "I bet you have all the juicy deets on me, huh?"

"There are thorough background checks conducted on all of our candidates."

"Yeah, I figured. You guys probably have all the phones bugged and have spy cameras in the bathrooms, too."

"I wouldn't go that far." Her mother would, and probably had, Jane knew.

"Then I guess you don't know everything," Roxy smirked and leaned back against the chair.

"No, I can't say that I do. We are having this interview for a reason, after all." Jane skimmed the page in front of her until she came across a line describing Roxy's skills. "It says here that you have a talent with computers?"

"Oh yeah. It's like I'm bilingual. I can work with the codes and access a bunch of stuff other people don't know how to do."

"How long have you been able to do that?"

"I don't know," Roxy replied offhandedly. She shrugged. "As long as I can remember. I've always liked messing around with code."

"I see. Have you ever used your coding abilities in a professional sense?"

"You mean have I been hired for it? No." Roxy exhaled an unflattering, humored snort. "No one's ever wanted to pay me anything for anything I can do until now."

"And how did you become aware of this… position?" Surely there weren't inviting job postings online for applicants. Mercenary work for an entity like Crockercorp was unorthodox, to say the least.

"Are you really in charge around here? You guys recruited me. You contacted me first."

How her mother had chosen any candidates was a mystery that would need to be solved at a later time. Jane brushed past the comment and returned to the paperwork.

"It's noted here that you have considerable skill in martial arts, as well as an impressive background in biology and other relevant sciences."

"Yeah, guess so."

"Would you care to elaborate on any of that, Roxy?"

"No, not really." Uninterested would be an understatement. Roxy folded her arms across her chest and peeled off a piece of skin off of her lower lip with her teeth. "Look. I'm just here to finish the interview because I was told I had to come in and sign. I need the money, and you need my skills. You guys already have all of this stuff on file, and I can do the job, so do we really have to do this?"

Jane would have been dishonest with herself if she said she wanted to conduct the full interview. Roxy's personal details aside, it was her birthday and she wanted to go home and bake a cake for herself while there was still time.

"I suppose we can skip to the legal requirements," Jane conceded with a touch more haste than she intended. It earned her a knowing look from the blond.

"You bored too?"

"I like to be practical with my time."

"Uh-huh."

Jane fished out a form from the portfolio and slid it across the table to Roxy.

"Have a good look at this. If you're still in agreement about the job, sign, initial, and date at the bottom of the page as indicated."

There was little chance Roxy's eyes had cleared even half of the page, but she held out an open hand into the air. Would all of the candidates be this nonchalant about the contract?

"You got a pen?"

"Yes, of course. Here."

Jane was careful not to make physical contact as she relayed the pen over to the other woman. Rolling the writing instrument had seemed pointless, noisy clatter. Not ladylike at all. Such efforts were wasted on someone so disconnected from public fronts as Roxy. The blond clicked the pen against her mouth a total of four times before she scrawled on the page.

"Hey, what's the date?"

"It's April 13th." It was surprisingly difficult not to sound bitter. How could anyone not know what today was? But it wasn't Roxy's responsibility to know it was her birthday.

"Alright. So, it says I've got to insert the chip. You got that on you or do we go somewhere else for that?"

"I have it here."

From a small pouch in the binder, Jane pulled out a chip so diminutive that she almost dropped it. She placed it into Roxy's waiting palm and rubbed the feeling of it away on her dress.

"Thanks."

"Do you need any help with it?"

"No, I've got it," Roxy assured her. She pinched the chip between two fingers and dug out a pocket knife from a side pocket. That the guards had not disarmed Roxy was an issue Jane would need to discuss with them later--if they were still around.

"Is that safe to use for this…?"

"Good enough for me!"

With a disturbing calm, Roxy pushed up her right sleeve, and the blade flashed under the fluorescent lights as she slit open her forearm. A rivulet of blood fled from the chip she smoothly pushed in, and the pocket knife then disappeared back into its hiding place.

Jane didn't want to be caught staring, but the display of self-harm left her aghast with her eyes rooted to the scene. Upon closer inspection, Roxy's arm was littered with scars that suggested that this sort of behavior was not unusual.

"There we go! Sorry about the blood. You guys got any bandages around here?"

Roxy tugged the sleeve back down and Jane barely blinked her eyes back down in time to avoid the blond's notice. It wouldn't do to be caught gaping like a dumb child.

"There is a medical facility a little distance down the hallway--"

"Great. I'll find it," was all Roxy said before she bounced up out of the chair and let herself out. The door clicked back into place and Jane was again alone with her thoughts.

As she collected the papers and stuffed them back into their folder, Jane allowed herself a moment of compunction about having gone through with the interview. She was already uneasy about her mother's decision to found this group, and it felt like taking advantage of Roxy--and undoubtedly the future candidates--seeing the look of someone who had nothing left to lose. The only consolation to be had in any of it was that, as the acting overseer, she might have the opportunity to make a positive difference somewhere, somehow.

Jane emerged from the office right as Roxy appeared from the bathrooms just down the hall.

"Hey, the medical office was locked, so I got some paper towels from the bathroom. It's pretty nice in there," Roxy hollered as she jogged up.

"Everything has been recently renovated," was all Jane could think to say.

They walked together back into the lobby, where Sarah-Joan was wiping down the receptionist's counter, and paused in front of the elevators.

"So, Jane, right?"

"Yes?"

"You going to be around here often? Or are you busy all of the time with important Crocker business?"

It was hard to tell if Roxy was prying for information or if she was genuinely interested in Jane and her whereabouts. They were hardly friends, at any rate. But Jane remembered that the distance between them would be what she made of it, and she forced a smile.

"I'll be around often enough. If you need anything, please tell me. Don't be shy."

"Do I look shy to you?" Roxy laughed as she pressed the elevator buttons. The door chimed and opened promptly, and there was just enough time for Roxy to wave and say, "See you around, Janey." The doors then shut just as quickly and she was gone.

On her way out, Jane stopped to request that Sarah-Joan would forward her all upcoming appointments for the week through email, to which Sarah-Joan agreed to do as soon as the rest of her desk was cleaned. Then, with a renewed hope for cake, Jane let herself out and did her best on the ride home to not think about Roxy's apathy, her eyes, or her arm.


	2. Interview: Dirk Strider

****

**April 15th  
Agenda: Dirk Strider Interview**

Jane's birthday came and went. In the end, due to more lack of energy than time, she had replaced the original baking plans with a plain vanilla cake for herself, and then had stayed up late watching romantic comedies alone. Now, two days later, her phone sounded off an alarm to remind her that she was due at Chez Crocker at 11:15 for the second interview.

It was only nine'o'clock, which gave her plenty of time to fix herself breakfast, shower, dress, and ride through morning traffic. Breakfast was strawberries and cream on toasted bagels with a hot mug of Earl Grey tea while browsing through the news on her phone. The shower was as hot as the tea, and that, with a freshly ironed dress, black instead of blue today, made Jane feel energized. A simple touch up of lipstick and she was ready to be all business.

The interview with Roxy had been short and to the point. As she reviewed the new case file during the ride to Chez Crocker, Jane wondered what differences she might see today. A young man was expected this time, Dirk Strider, whose description drew Jane's brows together in confusion. Evidently his appointment had been the first scheduled, but he had been delayed several days because of "unfortunate circumstances." The wording was probably left vague so as not to worry her, but all it did was make Jane more suspicious of what had actually happened. Perhaps she'd be given a chance to ask this Dirk about it. Asking her mother would be fruitless.

At precisely 11:00, the sedan pulled in front of Chez Crocker's entrance, and Jane stepped out of the vehicle just as a warm gust swept through at breakneck speed. It was all she could do to hold down her dress and hurry inside. From behind the receptionist's desk, Sarah-Joan offered her a sympathetic smile.

"It's supposed to be like that all day. Do you need a comb, Miss Jane?"

"No," Jane frowned at the dust on her clothing and portfolio. A strand of hair tickled her nose and she smoothed it back into place. "Oh, I don't know. Do you think I need it?"

Sarah-Joan peered at her thoughtfully and shook her head.

"You look fine, Miss Jane. Just thought you might want it."

"Thank you, but I'll manage. Has our candidate arrived yet?"

"Not yet, Miss Jane. You're the first one here besides us." By us, Sarah-Joan meant herself and the rest of Chez Crocker's staff--and Roxy, who chose this moment to enter the lobby from the stairwell.

"Hey, Janey! Looking good."

As Roxy approached, Sarah-Joan busied herself on the computer, and Jane turned to greet the third woman with a nod.

"Good morning, Roxy. How have you been?"

"Alright, I guess. The room is super comfy, but I'm always self-conscious everyone downstairs can hear me. Feel like a giant elephant sometimes, walking around up there."

The image made Jane chuckle. Roxy was far too small to compare to an elephant, but the blond did have an unrestrained enthusiasm about her that the idea of indiscreet stomping did seem possible.

"I wouldn't worry about that. Do you need anything?"

"Well, I already put in an order of stuff I needed yesterday, and I got the food this morning. I was wondering, though, when are you going to give me the first assignment?"

Jane endeavored to keep a straight face. Unless she was mistaken, there was no kitchen and she had seen no vending machines in Chez Crocker, which meant that if Roxy had only received her food today, then she hadn't eaten for at least two days. That was a troublesome notion, but Jane was just as distracted by the mention of the assignment.

Roxy's file had indeed listed a series of tasks to be completed, but Jane had been in such a hurry to go home because of her birthday, that she had skipped covering it. Some professional she was.

"Ah, that. I have an appointment in just a few minutes, but I could brief you afterwards."

"That works for me! So, who's the new recruit?" Roxy practically gushed with more interest than Jane felt. It was difficult to match her enthusiasm, and just as hard to be unaffected by it. A contagious effect, to be sure.

"I suppose you'll meet him at the same time as I will if you're willing to wait in the lobby."

There were no rules against any member of this mercenary group preemptively meeting one another, and Jane was curious what Roxy would think of her first co-worker. She suspected that Roxy had either her own speculation or she was bored, because Jane noticed that the other woman followed her over to one of the plush couches. There they sat together in casual quiet, neither compelled enough to do much more than idly observe the parking lot through the windows.

At 11:12, Jane witnessed a peculiar sight. A slender young man propelled himself into view on what appeared to be a stylized skateboard. Dressed in a dark tank top and shredded jeans, with spiked hair that must have been gelled, and a sword attached to his hip, he looked more like a would-be thug than a respectable candidate for an interview. Suddenly, Roxy's pocket knife was inconsequential; if this man intended to bring _that_ into Chez Crocker, there was legitimate reason for concern. Then again, if he signed the paperwork, what prohibited him from properly arming himself indoors?

With a sigh, Jane dusted herself off with gentle pats and stood. Beside her, Roxy leapt up, a grand smile on display.

"Look at that, Janey. He's coming in! Is that the guy?"

"It would appear so."

In truth, even with the photo sample provided in the file, it was anyone's guess if the man walking in was actually Dirk Strider. His face was partially hidden by ridiculously pointy and dark shades that had no visible attachment to his face, but had remained steadfastly fastened despite the wind and movement thus far. A wonder that no guards had thought to meet him outside and properly look at him.

"Dirk, is it?"

Jane moved forward to greet the newest guest, only to be intercepted by not only Roxy, but two security guards from a back room behind Sarah-Joan. Chez Crocker's secretary must have made a hasty judgment call--or maybe the security guards finally thought to scan potential candidates now that they could see a weapon. Or maybe they were this slow, and it had been by chance that they had escorted Roxy inside two days ago.

"Drop your weapon!"

"Oh my God, Janey!"

As security descended on the man Jane assumed to be Dirk, he reacted with impressive reflexes and upended both of the guards into a jumbled heap on the floor. It was a movement that Jane didn't quite catch, but found herself approving of it, if only because it was the sort of response she would want in a bodyguard if she were charged. Somewhere along the line, Sarah-Joan had sensibly vacated the room, no doubt to the back room to quell more rash security officers. As far as Jane was concerned, those gentlemen would no longer be necessary from this point forward.

"The katana stays," he said, voice not quite a baritone but still smooth and rich.

"You into anime or something?" Roxy spoke with a peculiar strain. When Jane cast over a look, she noticed a glaze in Roxy's eyes. Attraction. Well, according to the files, they were both adults. As long as it didn't hamper any assignments, she wasn't about to dictate what they did in their free time.

"As a matter of fact, yes."

For all of the fuss about the katana, it hadn't been touched. Jane noted a comical tattoo located on his right shoulder, and then the similarity between his hair color and Roxy's. Another thing they might bond over. Jane had never been properly introduced to anime herself. There were still too many other shows of her own to watch and not enough time.

Speaking of time. It was now 11:14, and Jane resolved not to let another second pass. Punctuality was vital to a productive and healthy schedule.

"You'll have time to better acquaint yourselves later, I'm sure. Please excuse us, Roxy," Jane interrupted as pleasantly as she could. Roxy must have been bored indeed, or lonely, for she seemed terribly disappointed to be cut off so early, but she took it well enough.

"Catch ya later, then," Roxy flashed a grin and wave, then turned and disappeared into the hallway.

"It is Dirk, right?" Jane inspected this shade-wearing, sword-toting man with due scrutiny, only to realize he was probably doing the same thing--only she couldn't see it. Best to pretend he wasn't, she decided, lest she become intimidated before the interview began. Not that she was the one being interviewed. Goodness!

"Yeah."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Jane." She offered her hand, but Dirk stood motionless and only looked in her direction, as if she had just held out a cup of sewage.

"I don't do handshakes," he said at last. Well then.

"Of course. Never mind that. Let's go to the office and get started." Take control, Jane told herself, as she moved first. She stepped over the legs of one dispatched security detail and guided Dirk back into the same office she had used two days before. The same seat waited for her across the room, and she eased herself into it with a tempered movement. When Dirk remained by the door, she cleared her throat and made a sweeping gesture at the chairs.

"Please have a seat, Dirk."

"I'd rather stand."

Maybe he was simply nervous. Jane steeled her own nerves and opened her portfolio. If Dirk wouldn't even sit down, she doubted he wanted to sit through a series of personal questions.

"Alright. I'll keep things brief. I have a form for you to sign, after which you can settle in. But first, I do need a little more information about your expertise with… robots?"

"I build them and I can program them."

"Er… Would you mind elaborating a bit more?"

"Yes."

What was the saying? Brevity is the soul of wit? Perhaps Dirk had a penchant for classical literature.

"I see. I would like a demonstration sometime, at the very least. Do you have any completed works you might be able to show me?"

Dirk crossed his arms and leaned back against the doorframe.

"I had the impression that my creations were unwelcome here."

"Why do you say that?"

"It might have been the threat to dismantle and disintegrate any active, independent technology not on my immediate person."

What in the world was her mother saying to these people? And where was she finding them again? She really needed to look into this. Jane pinched the bridge of her nose and allowed herself a sigh.

"I see. Well, I will be your acting employer from now on, and I'd like you to feel free to retrieve anything of yours and keep it in your room during your stay here."

"Noted."

"Well, this certainly will be brief," Jane murmured as she withdrew the printed contract and pushed it across the table. "Here is the form. Please review the terms carefully and sign, initial, and write the date below as indicated when you're ready. I have a pen if you need one."

Arms still folded across his chest, Dirk pushed off of the door and moved closer to the table to review the form. Jane watched his brows drop slightly as his head swiveled towards her.

"I'm not putting this chip into my body."

Oh?

"If you aren't in agreeance with the work, then--"

"The job doesn't bother me. The chip does. I'm not doing that."

"The chips are required to--"

"I'll wear it, I'll carry it around, I'll even tape it to my forehead. But I'm not putting it in my body."

Jane pressed her lips together into a thin line and deliberated. On one hand, one exception might prove to be the snowball that turned into an avalanche. Her mother would be furious if she discovered this act of disobedience. If Dirk was allowed to refuse the chip, what else could he--what else could _she_ \--reject? On the other hand, Jane had always found the constant surveillance to be invasive and tasteless. If these chips were truly only required for access to Chez Crocker rooms, what did it matter if they weren't embedded in the flesh of each mercenary?

This was _her_ group, her chance to strip away some of the filth from Crockercorp. Jane made her decision.

"Fine. But don't make a habit of these allowances."

Dirk grunted what might have been a laugh.

"Pen?"

Jane plucked out both a pen and Dirk's chip from the binder's pouch, and slid them over. In measured strokes, Dirk signed his name and filled out the rest of the paper as instructed. Then, at the end, he added a crudely drawn picture of a horse, and Jane bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. This guy was a giant nerd, wasn't he?

"Thank you, Dirk. Unless you have any questions, that will be all."

"Who was the girl with you when I came in?" Roxy would be thrilled to know her interest wasn't one-sided after all.

"That was Roxy. She also resides and works here now."

"Is there anyone else?"

"There is one more candidate who remains to be seen. He'll be interviewed soon."

"Interesting." And with that, and a two-fingered salute, Dirk excused himself from the room without another word.

As she gathered up her things, Jane realized she hadn't found a chance to ask Dirk why his original appointment had been delayed. The way he (and Roxy) so quickly dismissed themselves made them seem like skittish, feral cats.

Were any of these people going to be normal? Jane had a feeling that, if anyone was, they wouldn't be coming in for interviews here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot to publish this week's chapter but here you go!!


	3. Interview: Jake English

****

**April 21st  
Agenda: Interview Jake English**

By now, Jane felt experienced enough with oddball interviews that she determined not to overthink about this last one. In fact, she wouldn't think about it at all. She had kept herself up until the early morning again in favor of more romance movies. Why did she keep doing this to herself?

Jake English was due at 10:00. Jane dragged herself out of bed and poured herself coffee instead of tea this morning. The bitter aftertaste was enough to wake her up and get her into the shower. Seeing as her last two interviews had involved models of subpar quality clothing, Jane abandoned any formal attire and picked out a white sundress and dark blue flats. On her way out, she grabbed a premade breakfast sandwich and her portfolio, and called it good.

She refreshed her memory on Jake English in the car as she ate. Another young man--good grief! These mercenaries were all the same age, weren't they?--but more respectable looking. English's file was intriguingly robust, but Jane had barely given herself time to eat breakfast this morning, much less weed through four dozen pages on what were apparently noteworthy details of past therapy sessions. The fact that there was evidence of therapy was enough to discount Jake as another lunatic in human flesh. What unmannerly quirk would he have? Would he stab himself for the chip or refuse it outright? What size would his knife be--or would he enter the lobby with a gun?

Why her mother had thought she should become involved with this project, Jane had no idea. There was more threat in a single one of these interviews than any of the domestic activities forbidden to her (like having friends.)

They arrived roughly a quarter to ten. Jane wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and was glad she had forgone any makeup this morning. What would have been the point?

When she entered Chez Crocker's lobby, Sarah-Joan greeted her with a bright smile.

"Good morning, Miss Jane."

"Good morning, Sarah-Joan."

"Are you alright? You seem a bit tired this morning."

"I suppose so, but don't mind me. I'll be up and running in no time."

"That's good to hear. Miss Jane, I know it's a bit early, but the young man scheduled for the interview is actually already here, and I sent him into the office to wait for you there."

That caught her interest in a heartbeat. And here Jane thought she was early enough because Roxy and Dirk had barely arrived on time. She half-expected them to poke their heads out from around a corner, or step out of the elevator, but they were both scarce. Just as well.

Jane excused herself and made her way back to the office. Time to get this last interview over with. Her head pounded from sleep-deprivation and she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself up in a soft, fuzzy blanket and sleep for the rest of the day.

As soon as she opened the door, Jane felt self-conscious of her appearance. Seated somewhere at the middle of the table was a tall and broad shouldered young man with dark hair and a smart, dark suit, clearly expensive and tailored if one knew the look of it. Jane knew the look of it. She gripped onto her composure like a lifeline and circled around to the familiar chair across the room.

"Good morning," she greeted, careful to make passing eye contact. "You must be Jake."

"Mornin'! Gee, is it time already?" A flick of the arm revealed the polished face of a wristwatch. This was obviously going to be different than the previous interviews. Jane suspected she might even enjoy this one. Not only was Jake tall and well-dressed, but he was… well… exceedingly handsome.

"You're here early," Jane remarked as she situated herself and opened up her binder. A newly found curiosity brought her attention down to the stack of therapy results she had earlier ignored. Maybe, when her head was on straight, she would give those a proper look.

"My Gran would kill me if I wasn't! If you're not early, you're late, as she said." An accent Jane could only define as "British" floated into her ears. Charming, and something of a gentleman, too; Jake stood and reached over the table at her with an open hand.

"I'm Jake English, though I'm sure you knew that already, what with all of those papers!"

Jane swallowed down butterflies and shook hands firmly with Jake. Then, once introductions were over, they were both seated, and she declared that they might as well get started. No sense in wasting time over some numbers on a wall. It was already 10:54, anyways.

God, pull it together, Jane. You're twenty now and a professional businesswoman! He's an employee--a tool of Crockercorp!

But it was hard to view Jake as nothing more than a means to success when he smiled so much and was so polite as he answered all of her questions and humored everything she said with such good grace. Jane wished that the two other members were more like this.

"I never thought I'd be doing this sort of thing, you know," Jake confessed to her shortly after they had discussed his knowledge and passion about guns.

"What do you mean?" Jane folded her arms down onto the table and directed her attention to Jake. A sheepish look filtered onto his face, and Jake ran a hand through his hair with a laugh. Such lovely, dark hair, thick and full.

"Well, Gran had always raised me up all proper and the like, but since her…" Jake took a deep breath and bit his lip for a moment. "Since her passing last month, it's been hard to deal with life all on my lonesome, you know? Too much to think about. So I thought I'd sign up for some adventure and action!"

"I'm sorry to hear that about your grandmother," Jane offered. A genuine sympathy filled her. What would it be like to have someone in her life who actually loved her--who would have loved her enough to see her every day, and have meals with her, and listen to and exchange events they had experienced? It sounded so wonderful, and Jane was sorry that someone as nice as Jake had suffered such a loss.

"Oh, it's… it's alright. She was rather old, you know? Time happens to us all." Jake chuckled quietly and glanced to the side of the room where there was a large television screen mounted on the wall. "My, but isn't this a grand place! She'd have loved to see it."

Jane pursed her lips into a smile. Jake was so positive. Maybe she would pencil in more time around Chez Crocker after all.

"I'm sure. Well then, I have one last question for you, Mr. English, before we're through."

Jake turned his head back to face her, and Jane had to remember to breathe.

"Fire away!"

"Right. I understand that this may be a sensitive topic, and I don't mean to breach confidentiality, but my file does note that you have been seeing a therapist. Will you require those services here?"

"I'm not sure," he mused aloud. "My therapist has said I seem to be doing a bit better, but I'll have to ask her if I'm well enough to discontinue our sessions. I'd rather not fill up time with such dreariness when there's bound to be fulfilling camaraderie and thrilling activity to be had here!"

"Of course. Please contact your therapist and decide what works best for you. I should inform you that we do have an on-site therapist available if you're interested." Jake seemed so pleasant. Surely he wouldn't need therapy much longer if at all. It had probably helped him cope with the loss of his grandmother, although Jane knew better than that when she looked down at the hefty records. Would it be wrong to read them?

"I'll give her a holler this afternoon, I think."

"Good. Now then, do you have any questions?" Jane pulled out the last of the contracts and passed it over to Jake.

"I can't say that I do! But--well, actually, I guess I do have one!" The question must not have been related to any conflict about the job; Jake fished out a pen from an inner breast pocket and began to sign the paper.

"Go ahead. Also, please initial and date by your signature."

"Righto! And, well, forgive me for asking, but are you really the one who's going to be my employer? As you're the one interviewing me and all."

Jane blinked back her surprise, unsure of where this was going.

"Yes, I am. Why?"

Jake rotated the contract and slid it and her pen back to her, a disarming grin spread across his face. His eyes looked like gems, they were so bright and green, that Jane almost lost herself in them.

"Huzzah to that! I was just thinking that you've been so nice. I'll be looking forward to knocking your socks off!"

"I-- Pardon?" Jane felt a blush tinge her cheeks.

"Bollocks. I meant that it'll be great working with you! I'll make you pleased and proud, as Gran would say."

"Oh, of course! Of course."

They shared a giggle, however unprofessional it was for Jane; but the laughter faded when she handed him the Crockercorp chip.

"Ah, yes, that." Jake made a strained noise in the back of his throat and he tugged at his collar. "I, uh, may have some difficulty with that."

Not another one. Roxy had made it look so easy, self-harm aside. Lord, what had these interviews done to her already if she was still thinking about that?

"Can you explain what you mean by that?"

"I'm a bit, uh, squeamish, I suppose!"

"Oh!" Jane breathed out a sigh of relief. "In that case, we do have a technician available to assist you. Would you like me to call them in?"

"Please and thank you!"

Jane phoned Sarah-Joan and requested the chip technician. To pass the time until the tech arrived, they chatted about different things. It was mostly her listening to Jake share stories about his grandmother. He had some fond memories of drying flowers, hiking, hunting for frogs, and camping, among other pleasant activities that the woman had shared with him.

"I've a killer recipe for rabbit stew that she left for me!"

"That sounds delicious. Your grandmother sounds like a remarkable person."

"Oh, she was. I hope I can do her right someday."

There was no time to tumble off into the sentimental briar patch. Three raps came at the door, and Jane cleared her throat. The technician was here, and this was as good of a time as any to bring the meeting to a close. She could sit and talk to Jake all day, but she was still tired, and there would be other chances. She'd make sure of it.

"Come in!"

The technician let herself in, an unfamiliar woman who was willowy and freckled and bathed in an overwhelming amount of perfume. Jane bid her farewells to Jake and exited the room quickly, eager to breathe in some fresh air.

Sarah-Joan waved her over as she headed for the front doors.

"Pardon me, Miss Jane, but I'm supposed to get your approval for a large package that arrived for Mr. Strider."

The robots must have arrived. Jane wondered if these mercenaries weren't supposed to leave Chez Crocker now that they were hired. The contract hadn't mentioned that specifically, but the wording of it had been enough to imply as much. There had been Roxy waiting for food, and now Dirk with his belongings…

No. This wasn't a prison. Best not to think like that. They were probably just busy settling in.

Right?

"I'm aware of it. He can have it."

"I'll be sure to get it to him then, Miss Jane. Thank you!"

"Of course. Erm, Sarah-Joan, do you happen to know if any of these…" What was she supposed to call them? "New employees? Have any of them left yet?"

"Oh no, Miss Jane, they aren't allowed to do that without an approved escort. But if any of them try, I'll be sure to let you know!"

Why was it that someone like Sarah-Joan knew about this rule, but Jane had been so slow to understand it? She had suspected, but her secretary knew. Maybe some measure of guilt had slowed her acceptance of the idea that she was asking people her age, people who could have posed as friends, to be trapped here at her beck and call. Except she hadn't asked; her mother had somehow bullied them into it, and she had been complicit.

"Thank you, Sarah-Joan. I'll be leaving now. Have a good day."

"You have a good day too, Miss Jane!"

Jane did her best to sort through some hard feelings about her life as her mother's daughter, she really did. There was tremendous responsibility on her shoulders as both a person and as an heiress to the company, and she needed to find a balance before she was in too deep. But all she could think of today was how gorgeous were Jake English's eyes, and how his smile and homey stories had filled her with a warmth and yearning.

She would dream of him later, and imagine that she had been free to live a simple and happy life surrounded by doting friends and family. She would wake with a discontentment that would find the hollow of her throat and anchor down into her belly, and stay with her until she abandoned sleep to bury her head in more movies and fantasies. She would mope alone, huddled in a mass of blankets, and wish that she wasn't so lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that the key players have been introduced, we be able to begin our tale. :D


	4. Skaia Net

**August 24th  
Agenda: Have Roxy Retrieve Files**

Jane had never met with Roxy for that briefing after Dirk's interview. Hopeful not to come across as a lying simpleton, Jane left a message for Roxy to be ready to meet her in the briefing room at 10:00 today.

As an apology, she brought a homemade loaf of cinnamon raisin bread to give to Roxy, the thought of the other woman being hungry still on her mind. There were an additional two loaves set aside for Dirk and Jake as well, one for each of them. None of them had received any assignments and therefore had not been paid, and who knew what finances were available to them to purchase food? This was the least she could do. A welcome present, if you would.

When Sarah-Joan greeted her in Chez Crocker's lobby, Jane felt a needle of guilt in the back of her mind. Her secretary had been pleasant, and thus far Jane had offered her no baked goods or notes of gratitude. A fault to later amend as time allowed.

The clock read 9:53. There was just enough time to leave the dessert bread for pick-up and settle herself in the briefing room.

"See that…" Was it appropriate to use first names? Jane decided it was. "Dirk and Jake each receive one of these loaves. I'll be delivering one to Roxy myself during our appointment this morning."

"Of course, Miss Jane. Did you make them yourself? They smell so good!"

The praise made her face warm. Oh, she would not blush from this simple attention!

"Yes, I did." Jane paused a moment and then thought to ask, "Do you have a favorite dessert, Sarah-Joan?"

"Oh, I like just about anything, Miss Jane. But between you and me, I should probably shed a few pounds!" The other woman let out a warm laugh that revealed a comfort in herself that Jane found admirable. Enviable, maybe. She had felt a little too curvy herself lately.

"If I find a recipe with extra fruit or vegetables, I'll try it for you," Jane humored her, and excused herself with a smile and a wave. Sarah-Joan was sweet enough, but Jane had a feeling that the woman would gladly talk her ears off all day if given the chance. Not that she was against good company, but there was work to be done.

There was always work to be done. 

The briefing room was seemingly empty when Jane walked in. She deposited the bread and a folder onto the table, and was about to ease herself into a nearby office chair, when it swiveled around to face her and presented a slouched Roxy with a Cheshire grin.

"What's up, Janey!"

"Oh, God! Roxy!"

Jane stepped backwards and failed to hide her startled fright. What sort of nonsense prank was this?! One that Roxy evidently found hilarious, for the blond leapt onto her feet and clapped.

"Did I scare you?! You look like you almost pissed yourself!"

"I…" She wanted to yell, Jane really did, but there was something infectious about Roxy's sunny disposition that made it difficult not to laugh. She sighed and shook her head, inevitably bemused. "I suppose you did get the jump on me."

She should have checked the room, at any rate. Well, no harm done.

"Yeah, sure did! You know, I tried it on Dirk yesterday, and it's like the guy is a robot himself! He didn't even blink! Or at least, you can't tell if he does or not because he's always wearing those silly shades!" Roxy leaned against a chair with her palms as she spoke, and Jane listened to her with a growing curiosity as she slipped into an adjacent chair.

"Are you getting along alright with everyone?"

"Oh yeah," Roxy beamed. "Dirk's a stiff guy but you can tell he's just an awkward nerd. And Jake is super cool. It's like he's a grandpa! Only, younger and hotter, you know? He says some funny things but he's really sweet."

At the mention of Jake, Jane involuntarily cleared her throat.

"I had a similar impression from the interviews."

"Yeah?" Roxy dropped unceremoniously into the chair and spread her limbs about comfortably. "So, what's the big mission for today, boss?"

Jane parted open the folder, rotated it, and slid it over to Roxy.

"You can read the details for yourself in a moment. I'll answer any questions you may have. But in short, Crockercorp would benefit from the acquisition of the noted files. As you may be aware, we are a rather expansive entity, and there are as many rival companies as there are allies."

"I'm guessing you aren't asking me to snoop through a friendly company's digital fridge, are you?" Roxy traced her fingers over several paragraphs before she rested them on a bolded name. "Skaia Net?"

"Yes. Skaia Net has been a business partner with us for several years now, but we have reason to believe they may be co-conspirators with a number of other organizations that are seeking to challenge Crockercorp's economic and political standing."

"You actually think they're going to be a threat?"

"An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, as the saying goes," Jane recited, unable to hide a frown. "I'd personally rather give them the benefit of the doubt, but it would be impractical to turn a blind eye."

"So we're spying on them to see if they really are up to no good, and if they are then we kick their asses?"

"It's more to allow ourselves the advantage of preparation. Consider this a proactive defensive measure."

"Right." Roxy sounded unconvinced, and Jane couldn't blame her. Crockercorp's invasive reputation was not unwarranted. Roxy had signed a contract that was proof of that.

The fact was that Jane hoped to circumvent any messy confrontation and to try her hand at riskier business strategies. This was her chance to leave a positive impact on the beast she was meant to inherit. If she failed to successfully navigate through these corporate waters, Jane had no doubt her mother would take matters into her own hands, a fate guaranteed to cause undue bloodshed.

The true enemy would always be the result of failure.

"Once you've acquired all four of the files, notify me and we will schedule a meeting for review. There is no deadline for this assignment, but I trust it won't take you very long."

"Such flattery, Janey," Roxy crooned. "But is this payment for real?"

If Jane was honest with herself, she hadn't looked at the amount Roxy would be paid. One benefit her position in Crockercorp yielded was that she had never suffered for lack of anything, finances included. Review of bank accounts was a rare event designated for annual business meetings.

"Is that not enough?"

"Are you kidding me? This is more than I've ever had in my life!"

An ecstatic screech echoed in the room, and Roxy clapped the folder shut and bounded onto her feet. Jane had never seen anyone smile so widely, not even in the happiest of her movies.

"I'll have these done in a jiff, Janey, don't you worry!"

"I'm happy to hear it." Jane stood and took a moment to smooth down her dress. "Do you have any questions?"

"Nope!"

"Alright then. Before you go, Roxy," Jane lifted the loaf and held it out to the other woman. She pretended not to notice the sharp wariness that flickered across Roxy's face, and forced a smile.

"What's this for?"

"Consider it a welcome gift from me."

Roxy regarded the loaf as solemnly as if it were a corpse at a funeral. Then, her face stretched in that wide grin again, and she tucked the gift away under her arm.

"Thanks, Janey! I'm going to get my multitask on, hacking some networks and eating this fab bread!"

"You're welcome, Roxy, and good luck."

It was all Jane could do to step aside and out of the way of Roxy's bustling exit. The blond was a seemingly endless fount of energy, and Jane found herself drawn to the idea of more exposure to it. But she had seen the guarded look when she had offered Roxy the bread--the succession of confusion, fear, hurt, and brokenness--and it was impossible not to wonder if all of that bubbly happiness was just for show.

* * *

Hacking was never as fast, smooth, or remotely exciting as popular films tended to portray it. And that was effectively Roxy's first mission: hack into Skaia Net and make copies of four files. What Crockercorp decided to do with them wasn't her concern. Her priority was to complete her mission as quickly as possible so she could earn that sweet payment.

Anyone with an ounce of normalcy or responsibility would have put that money to good use. Invest in some stocks, look into a retirement fund, or consider real estate opportunities. Her first earnings alone could probably fund a year of classes at a college. On a more practical level, there were always lavish, self-indulgent options, such as hiring a masseuse, purchasing high quality outfits and jewelry, or outlining her room with immodest displays of art. If Roxy was honest with herself, besides some cheese crackers and assorted puddings, the entirety of her funds would instead be squandered on wine.

In the darkness of her room, Roxy basked in the silent, pale glow of her computer and let her fingers stampede over the keyboard. Entering the digital backdoor of Skaia Net was not a difficult task for her. The majority of the work was preparatory, and she had most of what was needed on hand from a previous and similar effort. Once a program was tweaked and set in motion, all she had to do was wait. And wait. And wait some more.

It was the waiting that ate at Roxy like the hunger in her gut. The woman at the front desk had been kind enough to explain that Roxy could order anything she liked, and any expenses she needed to cover would automatically be withdrawn from her account when funds became available. So she had ordered a handful of nonperishables, like crackers and canned meats and bottled water… and wine.

Roxy wouldn't have gone as far as to say that she was an alcoholic, but she was definitely weak to wine. It had an addictive, numbing quality that cocooned her nerves; it swallowed her excuses and insecurities without judgment, and let her believe that she was doing her best--doing what she must to get by.

Braced against her chair and desk, Roxy opened another bottle of wine--costly and fragrant--and breathed it in while it aired. A scent had incredible potency to reawakening memories, and wine retrieved flashes of her mother, her childhood, her hope. It was always a race to submerge those thoughts in dark fluid before they could surface for air--before they broke through her tolerance and left an aching hole in her chest again.

Her stomach would remind her that it needed more than denial and avoidance to survive. Ordinarily, she would open a bag of crackers and wash them down with bitter sips of red, but Jane's bread now sat on her desk and Roxy stared at it with some reservation.

Jane was not her friend. It wasn't that she didn't want them to be friends; no, it was just that Jane was a proper woman, a businesswoman, who had things to do and places to be, and none of that was any of Roxy's business. They weren't in the sort of relationship to exchange numbers or to send each other funny messages in the middle of a light-hearted chat. Jane didn't know about Roxy's problems (whatever history Crockercorp had dredged up) and Roxy definitely didn't know what Jane dealt with in private. Jane was her employer, and Roxy was here to do her job.

The bread was a professional gesture. It meant nothing, it wasn't personal, and that wasn't about to change. Jane probably did it to everyone because that was good business. So it stung to think that it was still the nicest thing anyone had done for her, and Roxy was torn between tossing the loaf into the nearest trash receptacle or saving it as an eccentric trophy.

Hunger got the best of her within minutes. With nothing to do but wait and drink wine, Roxy tore into the bread and crammed handfuls into her mouth. Like a sponge, the substantial bread absorbed her saliva beyond comfort, and she sucked more wine into her mouth straight from the mouth of the bottle. Cinnamon and raisins became a soggy, squishy mess against the insides of her cheeks; it caked her teeth and wadded up under her tongue and plastered onto the roof of her mouth. It was a thoroughly sensational disaster. It was the best bread she had ever had. It was the most she had eaten in days.

All at once, she wanted to cry.

Crying was for people who had real problems. People who didn't have a roof over their heads or people who had inescapable health issues. People who lost an arm or a leg, or a child or a spouse. Someone like that guy on the news who had beaten cancer only for it to return, and his wife and daughter had just died in a car crash--and he couldn't afford the funeral expenses, so please donate an extra buck?

Roxy didn't have those problems. She was healthy, she had a place to stay, she had a job, she had anything she wanted to eat or drink. The other two in Chez Crocker, Dirk and Jake, were nice enough; she could make friends. The shattered memories of her youth could be buried or swept away by these new events in her life. This was a promising future. She could make something of herself. It was supposed to be good. She didn't have real problems.

Then why was it so hard not to cry? Why was it too hard to say no to another gulp of wine? Why did it always take another tally mark or ten on her arm to feel like the world wasn't too sideways for her to walk through it again?

She wasn't an alcoholic. She didn't have real problems. She was just weak, just needed to try harder, just needed to do better. The marks on her body were proof. The wine was just her giving in to feel better because she was being overly sensitive about things that wouldn't have stopped anyone else from living a full life. She could stop when she needed to. It wasn't getting in the way of her job--she barely had anything to do right now, anyways. It was okay for now. It had to be.

When the door uttered four knocks, Roxy almost dropped the wine bottle onto the floor. She held her breath and went still, as if that would somehow turn away whoever was at the door; but the knocking came again, and her lips contorted in a frown.

She wasn't expecting anyone. A quick glance at her screen indicated that the program was still running, still needling around Skaia Net's security for a discreet pathway in. Her eyes swept across the mess of crumbs and plastic left on the desk, and she brushed them away into the trash. No sense in looking like a slob if she was going to answer the door.

Her room echoed with precisely four more knocks by the time Roxy had relocated the wine bottle and made it to the door. She cracked it open and squinted first at the light that poured in, then up at the guest at her door.

"What's up?"

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

As monotonous as the day before, and in the same tank top and sweatpants and shades, was Dirk Strider. Had it not been for his question, Roxy would have had no way of knowing he had acknowledged her at all. The man showed no emotion.

"No, just chilling in my room with nothing to do, same as usual." Roxy made an attempt to smile, to match the humor her words intended. "What brings you to my floor, Señor Strider?"

"I came to ask if you had Pesterchum."

"Pesterchum? As in, the messaging client?"

"The very same."

"Yeah, I've got it. Are you going to ask for my chumhandle, next?"

"Do I need to?"

Roxy laughed, the heaviness in her chest somewhat lifted suddenly. It earned her a subtle shift in Dirk's stance, and she took that to mean he was puzzled.

"You're a funny guy, Mr. Strider."

"You could just call me Dirk."

"I'll be glad to call you anything as long as I get to call you! It's been hella boring up here with nothing to do and no one to talk to! You know I just got my first assignment today?"

"Our employer seems preoccupied. I haven't received my first task yet."

"Yeah, Janey isn't the harsh overlord I thought she'd be. I don't think she was even the one to contact me at first, now that I think about it," Roxy mused aloud as she settled against the doorframe. Dirk only pushed his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

"You'd be right in that guess. Mannerisms aside, she isn't Crocker's true face--not yet, anyways. She'll eventually inherit the beast. Right now, she's playing house."

"Janey's the heiress? She doesn't look like it."

"Looks can be deceiving."

The old phrase made Roxy grimace. The irony of the moment, with her wine and self-pity hidden behind her, was not lost on her.

"So they say. Well, you want to continue this chat on Pesterchum or what? The walls have ears and all that."

"It's not like chat logs are any safer," Dirk countered, but she waved his words away.

"I know, I know, but I can beef up our chats with some security to make it more private. It'll be just you and me." Her eyebrows hopped at him, her tone teasing, but there was no visible response. She'd need to teach Dirk to lighten up, apparently.

"Sure. Timaeus testified."

"Huh?"

"My chumhandle. It's--here."

Dirk fished his phone from a pocket and tapped at it for a moment before he held it out. Roxy read off of the screen: timaeusTestified. She was able to see a partially obstructed image of a multicolored horse in the background before Dirk pulled his phone away.

"Got it?"

"Yep," she grinned at him. "You like horses?"

At that, Dirk raised his brows at her. It was the first facial expression Roxy had witnessed on his face, and she savored the idea that she had been responsible for it.

"Yeah. There are few things more glorious than the majestic creatures."

"Oh yeah? What's better than a horse, then? Centaurs?"

Dirk snorted in the back of his throat and frowned. "No. Centaurs are inferior beings birthed from someone's massive identity crisis. If anything would be better than a horse, it would be a hat. There is a high probability of the hat being on the horse, of course."

"Of course," she chuckled. This was the most she had heard him speak, and it was about horses wearing hats. For all of his stoicism, Dirk Strider was turning out to be a man of relatable humor and human interests.

"We can continue this conversation on Pesterchum," Dirk invited. He half turned away and paused to remind her, "You have my chumhandle." And he was off down the hallway, a distant blur.

With a new distraction and hopes of forging a friendship, Roxy felt the tide of her inner turmoil begin to ebb and settle. She locked the door and retreated back to the comforts of her computer chair and desk, just in time to see that her program had begun successfully drilling into Skaia Net's vulnerabilities.

"Bingo," she congratulated herself, and set about adding Dirk to her Pesterchum contacts. They resumed their discourse about fashionable equestrians and mounts, and Roxy found herself surprisingly interested in the subject after all. It might have been that she was so lonely that she would eat up anything Dirk said, or it could have been his passionate and yet laid back detailing on the matter that made it easy and interesting to listen to; or maybe she had always enjoyed horses and this was a coincidental awakening. Either way, the time slipped well past midnight before she realized that her mission had been fulfilled.

The files were hers. DS1, DS2, DS3, and DS4. Why Jane hadn't asked for more, she didn't know, although a review would reveal that these were the only files in the series. There had been no instructions forbidding her from opening the files, and curiosity won her over quickly enough. With a couple of clicks, Roxy was face to face with the profile and details of a young man who looked too similar to Dirk to be unrelated.

Dirk would want to know about this, but was it appropriate for her to share the information? She had boasted about a secure line, but Roxy was uncertain how deep Crockercorp's online reach was. She'd need to tidy up the room a little, but it would be safer to invite Dirk over to her room if she was going to share any of this. There was less of a trail that way, and she had done a sweep of her room on the first day to remove any hidden surveillance equipment. They would be free from probing eyes in here.

It was strange how she felt a loyalty to Dirk already when they had barely been introduced. But the notion that he might have some family left, and possibly didn't know--because why else would anyone work for Crockercorp if they had anything or anyone left to live for?--well, she would want to know. It only seemed right to tell him. He didn't seem _that_ indifferent to things.

Once her things were neatly organized out of the way, the wine bottle capped and tucked away under the bed, and the trash properly collected in the bin, Roxy settled in front of her computer and messaged Dirk an invitation to meet her again at her room.

TG: hey dirk you should come back down  
TG: theres somethin you should see  
TG: i know i said the chat is secure and all but you can never be too careful  
TG: its somethin i found on my assignment with my rad hazxors skillz  
TT: Wouldn't that be breaching your employer's expectation of privacy?  
TG: don't tell me you care abkut that  
TG: *about  
TG: anyways just come down  
TG: i swear its importnat  
TG: *important  
TT: Give me a minute.

It was an agonizingly long minute, all of which Roxy spent tabbing back and forth between all four of the "DS" files. Come to think of it, DS could easily be the initials for Dirk Strider. Was it a relative after all? She had no way of knowing unless Dirk confirmed it himself, and they weren't close enough for him to be sharing anything so personal, but she still hoped for some clue about the man on her screen. If anything, it would ease her mind about sending files to Jane about someone with such an uncanny resemblance to a coworker.

Just what was Crockercorp up to? Was Jane only polite on the outside, another heartless Crocker concealed behind endless masks and deceit? Just another head to a venomous entity?

The lingering taste of cinnamon in her mouth was suddenly bitter.

Roxy sprang out of her seat and unlocked the door at the first series of knocks--exactly four again--and let Dirk into the dark. If it bothered him to navigate across the room with nothing but the dim light of her computer while his eyes were covered by his shades, there was no sign of it. She let him take the chair and stood beside him, arms wrapped around herself.

"What the hell is this?"

It was the first time Dirk had voiced a feeling, and it wasn't a good one. Roxy thought he sounded angry at first, but shortly afterwards recognized that he was more shaken. A quick glance caught his fingers curled into the fabric of his pants, and his jaw was clenched.

"I don't know," she told him honestly. "Do you know him? I thought it was you at first but you can tell he's not the same if you look closely."

Whatever Dirk thought about her observational skills went unsaid.

"Why do you have these pictures?" He scrolled through the open file and leaned in. Roxy had the feeling that he wasn't interested in her answer--they both knew it had been her assignment--but she replied anyways.

"I found these in Skaia Net's files. Jane said they were a business partner, but Crockercorp is getting suspicious that they're involved with some sort of anti-Crocker conspiracists."

Dirk clicked through every file, scanned every line, and studied every picture, as if he were preparing for a crucial test on the material. He paused on the youngest photo yet of his lookalike, leaned back in the chair, and sighed.

"This doesn't answer any of my questions."

"What questions are those?" The hesitation in her voice was unmistakable. This wasn't her business, and maybe she shouldn't have mentioned it; but to see Dirk so unsettled bothered her somehow, and she wanted to help.

For some time, Dirk remained silent, focused straight ahead at her screen. She rubbed away goosebumps along her arms and did her best to be patient, to let him respond at his own pace. It paid off when he finally broke the silence, first with a long sigh, and then with information that was startlingly private.

"These pictures--these files… are all of my brother, Dave. He's been missing for years. Was just up and gone one day, and haven't seen him or heard from him since. That was seven years ago."

"Oh, Dirk, I'm sorry--"

"Don't." There was an iciness to his voice that chilled Roxy and caused the words to die in her mouth. "I'd resigned myself to the belief that he had most likely died. He was the last family member I had. Seeing all this…" He waved at the screen and sighed again, a heavy noise that sank to the floor like an anchor on the ocean floor. "He never even told me he was alive."

Roxy pressed her lips together and debated over what she could possibly say. What would she have done if she had discovered pictures of her mother instead? If there had been proof that her mother had survived and had chosen not to tell her, could she forgive it? Maybe. Maybe, as long as there had been a good enough reason.

"Maybe he couldn't," she suggested, but Dirk snorted disdainfully.

"After this long? Doubtful. The most recent data is marked October of last year. That's only six months ago."

"Would he even know where to find you?"

"Yeah. We lived in an apartment together for years. I stayed there all this time, waiting, until I finally thought I could move on, so I came here."

"When Crockercorp sent you an invitation," Roxy said slowly.

"Yeah."

Realization struck Dirk quickly, and he swore under his breath.

"If he's involved in Skaia Net, he's probably been avoiding Crockercorp's scrutiny, and they have eyes in every hole in town. They had tabs on where to find me. How long…?" Dirk ran a hand through the front of his hair and fell silent, gaze fixated on an image of a young Dave Strider on a rooftop overlooking the city. Roxy thought he looked sad.

It was sobering to think that Crockercorp had been spying on Dirk--probably all of them, and who knew who else--for that long. Seven years ago, she had been thirteen, a naive teenager who believed that she had so much talent with computers that she'd be able to work alongside her mother one day. Seven years ago, her mother had slipped away from her in a hospital bed, the doctors convinced that she would remain permanently comatose; her family had pulled the plug. Seven years ago she had begun drinking everything in her mother's wine cabinet, wrapping herself in her mother's clothes, laying on the floor of her mother's bedroom, trying to be as close to her as she could in whatever ways were left.

Dirk had surely gone through his own roller coaster of trials and coping mechanisms. Most people did so with reasonable privacy in their own homes. They had both lost their last loved ones; they both had waded through life against an unyielding current of aching loneliness and loss. And to think that, even back then, Crockercorp had seen it all and had been watching, waiting to exploit their vulnerabilities--it made her skin crawl.

And now they worked for the "eye in the sky."

Roxy bit the inside of her cheek contemplatively. Her mother was long gone. She had been there to witness the doctors pronounce her as dead. But Dirk still had a chance to reunite with his brother if Dave was still alive. The files suggested there was a good chance.

"Suppose I found out a way you could get in contact with him," she said pensively. "Put my skills to proper use and all."

His head turned to her slowly, and though she couldn't see his expression, it was clear that Dirk was considering her offer.

"And how would you do that? Why would you do that?"

It was like handing a starved, abused animal food--watching it seesaw back and forth between impulse and reason. Dirk struck her as a man of unwavering logic. But he was interested.

"I have my ways," she shrugged. "I can't promise anything, but I'll try. It… I understand what it's like to miss someone." The tightness in her chest had returned. Whenever Dirk went back to his room, Roxy intended to down the rest of the wine bottle and open another.

"What do you want in return?"

Roxy blinked at Dirk and an incredulous laugh bubbled out of her.

"I don't need anything for it! I'm offering to do this because I want to!"

"What you'd be doing is no small favor," Dirk replied, unconvinced. Reason over impulse. He'd probably rather starve to death before he'd risk betrayal again. But Roxy couldn't imagine giving him a beating instead of a meal, not when she knew so well what it was like to be hungry.

"It's something I can't do for myself anymore," she admitted softly. "But you still have a chance, so why not? I might as well put my skills to good use!"

She put on her best smile--or she tried, she really did--but it quickly faded, and she lowered her gaze to the side, away from Dirk.

"I feel like it's something I have to do for myself, too, as selfish as that might sound. But I don't think I could leave it alone, now that I brought you down here and everything."

Dirk would have been within his rights to cast judgment on her. Who was she to pry into his private life and wrench open painful memories? To dangle hope in front of him, and then confess it was for some self-fulfillment? Sure, there were no strings attached, but that didn't mean that she had pure motives about it.

But Dirk placed no condemnation on her, nor did he comment on her reasoning. He only pushed away from the computer and stood on his feet, and uttered a word that Roxy least expected.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"The offer. It means a lot."

"Oh, I--"

"I need some time to think about it."

Logic over impulse. Roxy would have devoured everything without a second thought if it had been her. Dirk's control was commendable.

"Yeah, of course."

He brushed past her, and Roxy felt a twinge of disappointment that Dirk was leaving already. Sore subject aside, the company had been nice. On a whim, as he opened the door to exit, she turned and called out to him.

"Can I message you on Pesterchum in a minute?"

He gave her a thumbs-up before he shut the door behind him, and that was good enough for her.

Roxy returned to her desk with precisely one and a half bottles worth of wine, a bag of goldfish crackers, and a box of tissues. With a renewed resolve, she began her own mission. She would need to compile all of the information on Dave Strider before she could decide how best to locate him; but as important as the task was to her, she couldn't help but be distracted every time her Pesterchum flashed with a new message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend against formatting, coding, or writing novels like this on mobile. It is slow, painful, and frustrating.


	5. Hello, Chicago

**April 29th  
Agenda: Land in Chicago, IL**

"I've never been to Chicago!" Roxy informed the group. She was bursting with energy as they walked through the parking deck of what was the largest airport most of them had ever seen.

Jane was the most experienced traveler of the four of them, having attended numerous trips for Crockercorp business even before her teen years. Jake claimed that he had flown internationally, but Roxy admitted that she had left New York mostly by bus, and it was a mystery how Dirk had ever reached Crockercorp or where he had even come from. Of course, Jane knew a great deal about each of her employees from the files her mother had forwarded to her, but beyond the initial review at each member's interview, she had done her best not to pry.

Now, their footsteps echoed eccentrically through the lot, Roxy and Dirk leading the group, Jane a short distance behind, and Jake closely following her. They were to meet a designated Crockercorp driver, a middle-aged man by the name of Jack, who was supposedly parked somewhere on this deck in an inconspicuous vehicle with the license plate "SPDSLCK." As it was nearing eleven at night, and they had arrived by private jet, they were the only ones on this floor; they should have been easy enough to spot to Jack's waiting eyes.

It did not go unnoticed how friendly Roxy and Dirk had behaved on the trip--as friendly as a predominantly one-sided effort might be viewed. Jane found it curious how the other female easily stepped so close to Dirk, how she tilted her head at him and murmured excitedly whenever a thought came to mind; and Dirk, despite his unresponsive demeanor, never once having cast a glance at her, didn't seem to mind the attention. In a way, they did seem comfortable enough. Maybe they had made friends in a week's time after all. Roxy did have an infectious personality. But what of Jake?

Ever the role of the gentleman, Jake had politely agreed to take the rear, and a quick glance back proved that he was still there, with his hands hung from his pockets by the thumbs. He walked with a smile on his face and turned his gaze warmly to Jane as he noticed her look.

Jane felt her cheeks flush, and not for the warmer weather; and while Jake said nothing and only smiled, her pulse quickened and her mind entertained thoughts of the two of them chatting as amiably as Roxy and Dirk did at the front--only Jake was a proper fellow, and would have offered her an arm which she gladly would have accepted, which meant they would have been awfully close--

Roxy's voice startled her from her thoughts, and Jane uttered an embarrassed little gasp.

"Hey, is that the car?"

"Oh!" Jane adjusted her glasses and squinted. For all of the lights built into the parking deck, it was still somewhat difficult to see. Perhaps another visit to the optometrist was in order.

"I dare say, Roxy, I think you're right!" Jake affirmed, having caught sight of the vehicle in question. Jane blinked and realized it was impossible not to see their transportation now that Roxy had pointed it out. Sure enough, a black SUV with the appropriate license plate was parked, idling, fitted precisely in the center of the parking space in the middle of a long row of other vehicles. Through tinted windows, Jane could make out the silhouette of a man wearing a hat. A chill swept through her as she thought they made eye contact through the rear view mirror.

Just slightly taller than Dirk, perhaps an even height with Jake, came the man from the driver's seat of the vehicle. Dark, with a gaunt face covered in a strange sheen, a mouth unevenly drooped in a sneer, and one eye hidden behind an eyepatch, he was a terrible sight. Jane felt nauseous just looking at him, but his voice was no better. Like gravel through a cheese grater, a noise not meant for any human. It was hard not to flinch.

"Miss Crocker," he ground out between clenched teeth before he spat out the shell of a sunflower seed onto the ground. A gnarled hand reached up and tipped the hat Jane had seen through the window, the headpiece possibly the cleanest thing on him. "Name's Jack. Heard you needed a ride."

"Yes," she managed, suddenly unable to sound sure of herself. Next time, Jane vowed, she would select her own driver, and it would not be anyone with the slightest resemblance to Jack.

"You kids all comin', too?"

Jack's one visible eye raked across them and settled on Dirk for a long moment, then jerked over to Roxy as she spoke up in response.

"Yep! We're keeping Janey company on this trip. Can't go without us!"

"These are my escorts," Jane explained, though she wished they were more bodyguards. Perhaps they were. Something about Jack made her uneasy, and she hoped there was never a minute in which she might find herself alone with him.

If Jack sensed the discomfort from the other four, he elected not to acknowledge it. With a grunt, he gestured for them to board the vehicle, and turned to slide into the driver's seat.

The interior smelled overwhelmingly of cheap cigars, and Jane stifled a cough as she seated herself in the back seat furthest from the wheel. Roxy scooted into the middle next to her, and Dirk filled the last seat on the row, so that Jake was left standing outside with an unmasked expression of distress.

"Shotgun is all yours, English," Dirk deadpanned at him before shutting the door in his face, and Jake sighed in resignation. No one wanted to sit next to Jack, but the man was growing impatient, and there was no time to dawdle.

"Hurry it up, kid," Jack growled over his shoulder. "And fasten your seatbelts, all of you. Don't want you flyin' into the windshield if I need to break hard."

Jane immediately had massive concerns for their safety, and she opened her mouth to voice them, but no sooner had she done that than Jake had settled into the front seat and buckled in, and Jack promptly shifted gears and began to ease the vehicle in reverse.

"Any surprise stops, or we goin' to the hotel first?"

"The hotel," Jane confirmed. There was just enough time for her to double check her seatbelt before the vehicle lurched forward, and Jack tested the limits of physics around every turn and at every stoplight. By the time they reached the hotel, an impressively tall structure decorated with large fountains and spotlights at the entrance, even Dirk seemed rattled.

"I'll be waitin' out front here at exactly eight tomorro' mornin'," Jack stated as they tore off their seatbelts and groped for the door handles. He didn't unlock the vehicle until he warned them, "Don't be late." The moment they all had cleared from the seats, Jack rammed the gears into drive and disappeared around the building in search of parking.

Jane breathed in the night air deeply and took a moment to appreciate an unmoving surface beneath her. To her right, Roxy shook herself off, and beside her Dirk smoothed his hair and clothes down. At her left, Jake clutched at his arms and shivered.

"What an, um, interesting fellow," Jake began, but thought better than to finish it as he noticed the disgruntled looks directed towards him.

"He should find a new job," Roxy suggested, then straightened and craned her head back to stare at the height of the hotel. "But look at how huge this is! Do we get the top floor?"

Jane shook her head and laughed. Crockercorp could certainly afford it, but it would have been gauche at best to evict some poor fellow or group from the top floor just so the four of them could avoid each other in an antisocial slumber party.

"I'm afraid the penthouse was already occupied. I did, however, reserve us each a private room. They should all be adjacent to each other for convenience's sake. Breakfast opens at six and I hear it is excellent. They even deliver straight to the room."

"What floor are we on?" Dirk questioned skeptically, as if Jane was promising too much already.

"I believe we are on the sixteenth floor, Dirk. Why?"

"Convenient," he drawled, and Jane sighed at the apparent sarcasm.

"Well, it would be _convenient_ if we all went inside and checked in. We've a long day ahead of us and I don't think Jack will be very flexible about the departure time," Jane commented, and she led the way indoors through the automated entrance.

They checked in at the front desk, Jane investing the effort in polite small talk as Dirk loitered by her. Roxy and Jake both quickly busied themselves in front of an ornate fireplace, their body language spirited and wide as they expressed their awe to one another. It was endearing in a pitiful sort of way, and it was not without a chuckle that Jane called them back over to hand them their keycards.

"We are on the sixteenth floor, as I mentioned," Jane repeated. "Rooms 1606 to 1609. I'm in 1608. Check your cards to see which room you're in."

They filed into the elevator and only then did Jake belatedly voice a confused observation.

"Miss Crocker, what happened to our luggage? I don't recall what happened to it after we disembarked from the plane!"

"Oh yeah, Janey," Roxy added, "Weren't we making deliveries? Where's the stuff?"

She swallowed a tired sigh. Jane felt more like a nanny than an employer. The term "supervisor" may have been apt.

"Our belongings have been transported to the hotel separate from us. They should be waiting in our respective rooms, courtesy of our flight attendants. I suspect the packages you are referring to, Roxy, will be among those deposits."

"Sweet," Roxy said approvingly. Jake seemed sheepish, hand at the back of his head, his eyes cast down. He was plainly embarrassed about having only now realized the state of things. Such unawareness was not impressive to report. But it was exactly this sort of thing that made Jane feel all the guiltier. These people were her age, but they belonged in different worlds; she sullied the integrity of their lives with the snares that Crockercorp's influence and wealth brought. She had been born into such a trap--they had been lured.

Dirk was the first to exit the elevator, not even a wave of farewell for the night as he stalked down the hall in search of his room and soon disappeared around a corner. Jane stepped off next, with Roxy and Jake close behind, and they walked to their rooms in relative quiet.

"Good night, you guys," Roxy sang in hushed tones, and she slipped into her room with a thrilled squeal. Fortunately, the door shut behind her and her glee would be quietly contained. The rooms were no doubt more lavish than she was used to on a trip, and it was hard to guess how long she would stay up gawking at everything.

"Well then, see you in the morning!" Jake chirped at her, the last to go, and he excused himself with a slight wave. Jane followed suit, letting herself into her own room, eager to enjoy the comforts of a freshly made bed for at least a solid seven hours.

Each of the rooms had king sized beds, Jane knew, and her own bed nearly absorbed her into its pillowy sheets. It was not nearly as comfortable as her mattress back home, but after a long day on a plane and the stressful ride courtesy of Jack, Jane fully welcomed it. As she let herself sink deeper with each breath, her mind drifted from thought to thought on its way to what she hoped would be pleasant dreams.

The day had been what she had imagined a day with friends would have been like, were she allowed such relationships. She had enjoyed cheerful conversation with mostly Roxy, sometimes Jake, and had observed their intermittent, playful banter with amusement. Even Dirk had snorted at them once or twice, as close to a laugh as she had ever heard from him, when Jake had stuttered over himself at some skillful teasing from Roxy. Jane appreciated the pleasant memories and dwelt on them for several minutes, even dared to daydream they would happen again, until at last she was uprooted from her bemusement by the unique chime and vibration of her phone.

Her mother.

Jane heaved a sigh into the air and told herself that it could wait until the morning. She was confident that it was only a probing message meant to confirm her whereabouts; but with Crockercorp's technological capabilities, it was safe to assume that some sort of tracking application was already at work. It was more about the satisfaction of control, a vice which Jane refused to indulge tonight.

She was bitter, she supposed, over the circumstances of this still-nameless group. Her mother had rejected every plea for friendship. Loneliness was an enemy one only ever fought alone, Jane had been told more than once. To a woman as coldhearted as her mother, such a foe must not have existed. But Jane felt it, and the sting of it was only greater when she saw this group for what it was: the reminder that she was expected to invest herself fully into the role of Crockercorp's prided heiress, and that no matter how many prospective peers surrounded her, they would never be her friends.

Her fist swung out and indented a thick pillow. It was pathetic to cry over how life wasn't fair, but was some self-government too much to ask for? She was twenty, for God's sake! An adult! And yet here she was, still catering to her mother's every whim like an obedient pet. No matter how guilt burdened her, what else could she do? What other course was there but to bide her time and fulfill her mother's wishes until she replaced her?

Jane's only consolation today was that everyone had seemed genuinely happy. At Crockercorp's expense, they were granted opportunities to experience and indulge themselves in ways that Jane imagined were otherwise impossible. Already they traveled together in luxury, and there were many more trips and rewards promised in the future! There were perks to the business to be sure. But was any of it worth it? Jane decided that it must be, because it was all she could do. Still, that didn't mean that she couldn't play the part of a generous employer.

A party when they returned, she decided. Jane perused a library of memorized recipes and settled on several she thought most impressive--and not only baked goods, oh no. There would be a feast. She would arrange for an entire evening's worth of entertainment and invite them all to her suite, and they would celebrate their first successful team mission. Perhaps they could collectively brainstorm a name for the group while they were at it. Yes, that sounded good.

Mollified by her plans, Jane rolled over and adjusted the pillows, ready for sleep. Her mind warned her of the consequences of ignoring her mother, but she dismissed the thoughts, prepared with several excuses. She would say she had already fallen asleep. There was also the disquieting fact that they were to ride with Jack in the morning, and the chilling sneer on his face was not easily forgotten; but tomorrow's troubles would have to wait in tomorrow's allotted space. She needed every moment of rest if she was to face tomorrow at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the chapter seems short, that's because the next chapter will be somewhat longer! This seemed like a good place to break it up.
> 
> I do confess that the nicest hotel I've stayed in overnight is a Comfort Inn. Their cookies were first class.


	6. Hit the Road, Jack

**April 30th  
Agenda: Deliver Packages**

Jane woke to a knock at her door at 6:35. Her eyes resisted her as she forced them open and rubbed her knuckles against them--or would have, had she not left her glasses on when she fell asleep last night. She squinted past the smudges at the clock on the nightstand and swallowed a groan. It was earlier than she wanted it to be, but as it was, there would be just enough time to clean up and have breakfast before meeting everyone downstairs.

Speaking of breakfast, was room service at her door? She hadn't ordered anything, but Jane wouldn't have been surprised if it had arrived anyways. Who knew what to expect at these fancy establishments.

She rolled out of bed and took just a moment to comb her hair down with her hands before she greeted the guest at the door with an inquisitive look. Roxy grinned at her in the hallway, dressed for the day in jeans and an oversized shirt.

"Hey Janey! Can you help do the room service order? I figured I might as well do it while I have the chance!"

"Ah, of course," Jane agreed, and she stepped to the side to allow Roxy access to her room. "Why don't you come in, and we'll order for the both of us? I plan to take advantage of it as well and freshen up while waiting for it to arrive."

"Really? I'm not saying no to having breakfast with you, Janey," the other woman bubbled. Roxy seemed like a deer in the spring, her steps light and bounding, and Jane recalled their second meeting during which Roxy had seemed nervous about being "an elephant." Well, they would be checking out soon enough, so any disgruntled guests below them would have to manage.

"There is a menu somewhere around here--ah, there, in the nightstand. You've found it. Let me look over your shoulder, if you would."

Jane moved over to stand by Roxy who now peered down at a menu with wide eyes, and skimmed it with a practiced speed. Sausage, french toast, strawberries and clotted cream, and breakfast tea. That would do. With a nod, Jane looked up to Roxy, expecting her to also be ready, but the taller woman was still staring at the menu, agape.

"There are so many options," the blond breathed, and Jane chuckled deeply. Spoiling a friend made for warm feelings. But they weren't friends, she sourly reminded herself.

All business, Crocker.

"Are you looking for anything in particular, or might I suggest anything?"

"Uh, what're you having?"

Roxy's head turned and her eyes were bright, her nervous energy still charming.

They were _not friends._

"Sausage, toast, fruit and cream, and tea. A standard breakfast, I suppose."

"Oh, wow! I usually just grab a granola bar if I eat breakfast," Roxy laughed, and Jane was instantly reminded that her concepts of normalcy were a far cry from that of Roxy's--or the other two, she'd wager.

"Why don't I order a few things for you as a surprise?" Jane offered, earning an ear-splitting smile from the other woman.

"That sounds fabulous! I'll plug my ears and stand over here so I don't spoil myself."

True to her word, Roxy stuck a finger in each ear and engaged in a peculiar, tottering dance by the window, no effort made to mask her restless anticipation. Jane placed her order, as well as a variety of other things, and then hunted about the closet for her things. There was just enough time for a quick shower before breakfast arrived, and Roxy was content to leave her to it, now taken in by the sight of the Chicago sunrise coloring the horizon.

She had barely dressed into slacks and a blouse when Jane heard through the bathroom door that Roxy had let in the room service. An awed and exaggerated gasp sounded against her door and Jane heard her whisper through, "Janey, oh my gooosh, there is so much food!"

Once she heard the outside door shut, Jane emerged from the bathroom. Her order waited on one tray, the tea billowing with steam. Another tray offered bacon, hash browns, scrambled eggs, roasted asparagus, a chocolate cappuccino, and a small dish of caramels. It seemed a bit much, but Roxy had been so lost looking at a mere breakfast menu, and she was unmistakably thin (which was pronounced by her loose clothing) that Jane had decided it was her personal side quest to nourish the woman to a healthy state of diet.

A quick glance at the clock proved that there would indeed be just enough time for breakfast. 7:38.

"Well then, shall we? That one is yours," Jane gestured loosely, and settled in front of her food. She had taken just one bite of her sausage when Roxy sniffled beside her and began to pluck at her own food.

"This is too much for me," Roxy mumbled, and the overwhelmed look was not lost on Jane, though she was hardly sure of the source; but there was no time or place for emotional road bumps this morning, and Jane shushed at her between bites.

"We haven't much time. Don't let it go to waste!"

"I won't," the blond resolved, and she suddenly began to stuff her cheeks with bite after bite of food until the sides of her face bulged.

Down the hallway, they heard the slam of a door and Jake's frazzled voice floating past.

"Cripes! I overslept!"

Certain that Roxy would rub this in Jake's face later, Jane giggled into her tea.

They were not friends. But they would make good ones, Jane thought.

  


* * *

Eight'o'clock (and with it, their driver, Jack) came too quickly.

Jane and Roxy exited the elevator together, Roxy carrying a small tote bag and Jane with her purse hung over her shoulder. They stepped into the lobby and agreed that Jane would begin the checkout process while Roxy searched for the missing two companions. There had been no answer at either of the doors upstairs, and while it was safe to assume that Jake was downstairs, probably polishing off his breakfast, there had been no word from Dirk yet. Or so Jane thought.

"Oh, I know where Dirk is," Roxy revealed to her as she returned her key card. "He messaged me back a few minutes ago. He'll meet us here in just a sec."

Jane wasn't sure if she had the energy to be surprised, or if it was anything to be surprised about. Dirk didn't seem the chatty type, but it wasn't uncommon for coworkers to communicate with one another--if that was even applicable in this setting.

"I should add Jake, too," the blond thought aloud, and Jane hummed in agreement.

"It would be useful to have his contact information, wouldn't it?" Why didn't _she_ have any of their personal contact information? Her mother rarely made such oversights when it came to collecting data, and her files had been otherwise thorough. Had it been an intentional slip? "Although, I suppose there's no need," she added dryly as the man in question burst into the lobby from the doors of the dining facilities.

Upon making eye contact, Jake flushed and shot them an awkward smile. "Mornin'!"

Her heart might have fluttered. What a dork.

"It's time to check out, Jake. Please be quick about getting your things," Jane told him. But Jake crossed the room and joined them at the counter instead, readily placing his key card on the counter.

"Oh, I didn't bring anything," he admitted. "I'm raring to go now that I've had a fine meal! They've quite the spread in there, can you believe it?"

At the mention of impressive food, Roxy turned and began to share with him her own breakfast experience. The two gushed over meats and roasted vegetables--and oh, the drinks! It was hard not to laugh at them, not for condescension but rather with delight.

Yes, a party with their own little feast would be great indeed.

In unison, Roxy and Jake yelled, "Dirk!" as the last of them came into view from the stairwell door. Like Roxy, he had on a shirt and jeans, a backpack slung over his shoulder, sword hung at his side. True to himself, he still had on his shades. Jane was beginning to believe he never took them off.

"Sup," Dirk greeted, and he held out his key card as he approached. While Jane completed their checkout, she was aware of the other three exchanging further details about what they ate. Dirk was less enthusiastic than the rest of them, but he did comment on how many cups of orange juice he had drunk, which prompted Jake to challenge him to see who could drink more juice in sitting, and that caused Roxy to advise against it because that would make them need to pee, and--

"Jack is waiting outside."

Jane's reminder instantly deflated their liveliness. The mere reminder of Jack and his driving habits was enough to sober them.

"I call the back seat!" Jake suddenly cried, and he dashed for the door. Roxy voiced the same and was quick to follow, which left Jane and Dirk to exchange glances.

"I…" Jane faltered. She wanted to claim a back seat as much as anyone else, and she was well within her rights to sit wherever she pleased; but with leadership came certain responsibilities, and that included taking one for the team when necessary. It was just debatable if it was necessary. As she turned her gaze out through the glass doors and saw Roxy and Jake bickering at each other at the passenger doors, she felt Dirk should also join them. He deserved friendship where it was unavailable to her. It was decided.

Dirk had just opened his mouth, but Jane spoke first.

"I'll sit in the front. Let's not waste anymore time, shall we?"

Something passed over Dirk's face then, though what, Jane couldn't say, but he didn't argue. He only nodded at her and headed for the vehicle, and Jane checked her purse one last time before she joined them.

Jack was displeased at the slight delay in schedule, more for having been kept waiting than any professional concerns. As Jane slipped into the front and buckled her seatbelt, he glowered into the rear view mirror with a ferocity that seemed doubled from the night before.

"You kids ever heard of a watch or an alarm clock? It's ten after. My Pa'd split me open a new back door if I was ever late. Kids these days. Tch!"

Jane pointedly looked down into her lap and made a show of thumbing through her phone, glad that his frustrations weren't directly sent to her, although she could always depend on the excuse of important Crockercorp business, given her status, if it came to that. Speaking of which, her mother was due a response by now.

"We're ready to go," she stated with as much authority as she could muster, and Jane concentrated on a series of pandering texts with her mother as Jack raved to himself over the radio while he drove at breakneck speeds. She fully expected a police car to pull them over, but she did have to credit Jack that they arrived at their first destination without incident.

Jane stepped out of the vehicle first as they unloaded in front of a Crockercorp building that boasted more floors than the hotel they had stayed in. It was hard to admit that she didn't actually know the purpose of this building, but the logo on the front was unmistakable, and now that they were here there was no reason not to deliver the packages. Not that she knew what was in the packages, either.

Why was there so little she knew?

"We'll be just a moment," she turned to say to Jack, but the impatient man had already abandoned them on the street in search of parking.

"What a madman!" Jake exclaimed.

"You sure you can't call for someone else?" Roxy half-pleaded as she tugged the tote up at her side. "Isn't this one of your buildings? Can't you ask for someone here?"

"I wish I could," Jane sympathized. She really did want to replace Jack. Not only was the man dangerous on the road, but she couldn't shake the unpleasant feeling that there was something wrong about him. Maybe she was simply unnerved by his gruff demeanor; he could very well be a decent enough person behind all of his vulgarity and temper… maybe. But never had she felt so uneasy around anyone else. It was like the man was unhinged in some way, and she didn't want to find out why.

Best to get a move on. The sooner they delivered the packages, the sooner they would be rid of Jack.

They formed a disjointed square as they walked to the front doors, Jane and Roxy at the front, Jake and Dirk at the back. The towering structure cast a chilling shadow over them as they neared it, and Jake sneezed twice in a row as soon as they were out of the sun.

"You allergic to shadows?" Roxy laughed at him, and he pouted at her.

"Pardon me! I can't help it if my sinuses want to clear out!"

"At least cover your mouth, dude," the other male said, and Jake groaned.

"Not you too, now, Dirk!"

"Quiet down, please," Jane hushed them as they reached two large glass doors, all darkly tinted. To the side, a buzzer and intercom set protruded from the sleek wall, and Jane pressed the button to ring for the front desk to let them in.

"How can I help you?" A voice filtered through the speakers. Jane spoke for their group, peering in at the glass as she did, though she was unable to see inside. One-sided glass?

"This is Jane Crocker." There were few people employed at Crockercorp--and outside of it--who would miss the significance of her name. "I'm-- _we_ are here to deliver a package."

Now that she thought of it, why was she, the heiress, on a mission to essentially deliver Crockercorp mail? In the back of her mind, Jane felt a growing sense of alarm, but the day offered her no time to piece things together. It would have to wait.

There was a pause over the intercom and then, suddenly, the doors hissed, as if decompressing, and the voice responded.

"Come right in, Miss Crocker."

"Thank you," she thought to reply, careful to set a proper example. Manners mattered, as it was said.

They filed into the building in the same order, ladies in the front and men behind, and entered a lobby twice as wide as it was deep. Polished floors stretched out before them to the front desk, a wooden construct that spanned out in a semi-circle. Behind it was a pair of women neatly fitted in business suits, both standing at the ready, and they greeted the four visitors with smiles that didn't reach their eyes.

"Good morning, Miss Crocker, and… everyone. We appreciate you taking the time to deliver the package yourself. Are you here to tour the labs?"

Labs? Jane's brow wrinkled in confusion. She was aware of testing facilities at their headquarters, but why would there be a Crockercorp lab in Chicago? How long had it been here? How oblivious was she to her mother's reach?

Her inner unrest had somehow translated as displeasure. A nervous edge strained on their faces as the receptionists struggled to maintain their composure. Disappointing a Crocker had unfortunate consequences, the least of which was dismissal.

"Not to worry! This isn't a live test site, if you're uncomfortable with that sort of thing!"

She _was_ uncomfortable with that sort of thing, "that sort of thing" being that there was any such thing to begin with! Jane felt her stomach twist with nausea and she fought to keep her face unassuming. These women would trip over themselves to please her, but there was no gain to show emotion now. Relief would only make her seem weak. On the other hand, appearing unaffected offered her reputation no benefits either. There was really no winning in this situation. But that didn't mean she couldn't learn something from it.

"I don't have room in my schedule for a tour today," she told them truthfully, taking note of the tension that faded from their features. "However, I would appreciate it if you would have a detailed report forwarded to me. Keep me abreast of things, if you would."

That seemed to rattle them more, but they couldn't outright refuse her, Jane knew. Why would they? What could there possibly be worth hiding from her in these walls?

"O-of course, Miss Crocker!"

"Thank you." Before she could forget the original purpose of their visit, Jane addressed Roxy with an unexpected curtness. "The package, if you please." She needed to get out of here--get some fresh air. They had been inside for barely a minute and already she felt suffocated.

At her side, seemingly unaffected by the edge in her superior's tone, Roxy rustled about in the tote and pulled out the larger of the two boxes. The brown paper packaging crinkled faintly noise at the movement, and Jane noticed that there were a series of initials on it, only one of which she recognized--her mother's--as the box was placed on the desk in front of her. From the sound of it, it didn't seem particularly heavy, but it was decidedly nondescript, a fact that made it stick out like a sore thumb to Jane.

Her mother rarely did anything without some show. It was an affront for the woman to think anyone could find her ordinary. But the parcel was undeniably plain, and her mother's signature seemed out of place on its side.

She wanted to ask what it was, to ask what this building was and what they did here, but that would break the illusion that she was in control and aware of things. Jane clung to those threads that feebly grounded her now.

Nothing had been making sense lately, and it was foolhardy to dive headfirst into a snake's burrow. And if Crockercorp was to be the burrow, her mother by the day seemed more a hydra. She really didn't know the woman at all. Maybe it was better not to know just yet. She wasn't sure she was able to handle it.

It was time to leave.

"I trust you can have the report sent to me by this evening," Jane said expectantly. She was dimly aware of a curious look from Roxy, as one might expect from a worried friend, and she pretended to ignore it, eager to fulfill the day's objectives and to retreat to the solace of privacy. There were many things which now required her review, many channels of introspection to consider, and it wouldn't do to succumb to the persistent distractions of relationships.

The two women behind the desk bobbed their heads at her like dashboard pets. They nearly stumbled over themselves, stammering promises, but Jane turned away from them, brushed past her companions, and focused on the door. She needed that fresh air.

"Have a good day, Miss Crocker," they called out to her, but only Roxy waved at them, their group quickly retreating after Jane's driven steps.

She nearly gulped at the city air once outside. Another moment inside what she now knew to be a lab, and Jane might have snapped for all of her professional efforts.

"You sure are good at the no-nonsense business stuff," Roxy remarked, stepping up beside her. Two more pairs of footsteps approached from behind, soft and unhurried now that they were all on the sidewalk.

Had she been too transparent in her uneasiness? How embarrassing would it be her discipline lapsed now with practical strangers to witness it! Not that she had any trusted inner social circle to vent to.

Jane cleared her throat and offered the other woman a small smile. "I should hope so. It's supposed to be my job." She glanced down the street in search of their car, thankful that her voice was steady.

"Do you normally play mailman?" She heard Dirk drawl, and she almost jumped at how close his voice came. Her eyes had been trained on the street and she had been oblivious to his approach. It shouldn't have been much of a surprise, given that they were all waiting together; her nerves were getting the best of her if he had startled her that much.

But what could she say? The truth of things was that Jane rarely left her home, the exception being when her mother called on her for special publicity events and "educational training" moments. Delivering packages was the sort of work that was delegated to nameless grunts down the chain. There was an entire postal service for the nation, for God's sake! The most sensible reason she could come up with was that she was supervising her employees, and even that seemed hollow. The unspoken question in Dirk's words would find no answer today.

"It is unexpected," she conceded. Just then, Jack pulled into view from around the corner, and Jane cleared her throat again. "Here's our ride."

Besides a convenient diversion, Jack offered no comforts to Jane. If anything, he only added to her distress, and it was harder now than ever before to keep a straight face.

"Took you long enough," Jack groused at them as soon as they were in motion. "I drove around the block eighteen times-- _eighteen_ \--waiting for you kids! Ain't Crockercorp big enough for some front parking? What kind of numb-nuts you got running things?"

They jerked against their seat belts as Jack rammed the breaks, stopping just short of someone's bumper. Early lunch traffic was beginning to clog the already busy streets. The cab was oppressively warm and the stench of smoke was stronger than yesterday. All of this combined with the radio and Jack's overbearing ranting, and Jane didn't think she could tolerate another minute.

She drew in a deep and slow breath and released it in like fashion. When Jack punched the horn, she did it again; and when he unleashed a vulgar string of insults at the unmoving vehicles ahead, she did it yet again. She could not lose her head now. She was her mother's successor to a universally recognized corporation, of which she was frequently the personal representative among higher social circles; she was out on business and had a reputation to maintain. She was a mature adult, a dignified woman, who could control herself in the moment of a little inconvenience--

Jack lurched the SUV into another lane, cutting off an oncoming vehicle, and drove halfway onto the sidewalk to force a right turn during a red light. He honked furiously at every car they passed and snarled profanities into the windshield.

Jane blinked once, then twice, and snapped.

She whipped her head to the side and screeched at him shrilly, " _What in the hell is wrong with you?! Are you TRYING to kill us?!"_

"Cool your tits, we're almost there," Jack retorted levelly. Jane could only gape at him, furious, her jaw working silently in the air.

"Yo, you should take it easy up there," Roxy suggested from the back, but Jack swiveled around in his seat and glared at her, and Jane didn't acknowledge her at all, and so the blond abandoned any hope of discussion. It wasn't worth it to engage Jack if it meant he'd turn his attention from the road entirely.

They suffered together in palpable, wordless tension for another ten agonizing minutes before they pulled into the parking lot of a long building with a sign erected on its roof reading "Skaia Net."

"Look, we're here, and all in one piece," Jack sneered at them, putting the vehicle in park, and they escaped from their seats mostly without objection; but Jane lingered in her seat for a moment, door ajar so she could call out to the other three.

"Go on ahead, and I'll catch up shortly. I'm sure you all can manage without me for a minute. I'd like to have a word with Jack in private."

No one needed to be told that a scolding was about to take place. The three knew better than to ask questions--they had been effectively hired as modern-day mercenaries, after all; they were paid to get the job done, not to be nosy--and only Roxy cast one look back at Jane as they excused themselves and walked to the front doors of the building. It was only once they were inside and out of sight that Jane clicked the door shut and turned to Jack.

She had never committed an official dressing down of an employee, but she was angry enough to wear an expression of unmitigated disdain as she relished the thought that this would be her first go at it.

"I'll give you one chance to convince me that you should be allowed this job another minute."

"You threatenin' to fire me over a little speedin'?"

The man was unphased and unabashedly unrepentant! Jane curled her fingers into fists on her lap and sniffed in disbelief.

"What you did was more than speeding! Your driving almost killed us there, and that says nothing for the preceding trips!"

Jack rolled his one eye at her and quipped back, taunting, "You think I give a shit if you fire me? Think that means somethin' to me?"

Jane blinked at him, faltering slightly. What did she expect to achieve by venting her frustrations and disappointment on this unmistakably uncaring, brazen man? Fire him and be done with it! Let there be only one fool.

But Jack locked the vehicle, and Jane was again reminded of how uncomfortable he had made her. The queasy burrs in her stomach returned and she swallowed nervously. Her intended intimidation wasn't working, and she was quickly being overcome with a sense of dread.

"You higher ups think you've got all the power because your wallet's fatter than the rest of us, but just you and me in this car and you're like anyone else," Jack growled at her. His hands left the steering wheel and dipped into his pockets. When he pulled out a switchblade, Jane pressed herself against the door of the vehicle with wide eyes and fumbled with the lock.

"Open the door! Open it! What are you doing?!"

It was useless to beg, of course, but instinct had a way of overriding logic at times.

"Bet you bleed just like anyone else, too," Jack laughed at her as a hyena might laugh at its kill as he descended on her, blade flashing in the slant of sunshine through the windshield. "Come to think of it, why'd you let your cute little bodyguards leave you all alone? You're stupider than I pegged you for."

Time rutted forward at an undefined speed. Jack lunged at her, knife slashing down towards her neck. There was barely room in the cabin for her to dodge; she twisted and jerked herself sideways into the dashboard, narrowly avoiding injury. But then Jack was almost on top of her, crouched across the front seats, positioned to squarely plummet his weapon into her chest, or face, or anywhere he pleased. He laughed again at her, a demon in the thrill of the kill, and brought his blade down; but his face contorted with confusion as the glass of the window shattered around them and an invisible force collided into his head twice, hard enough to topple him back into a crumpled heap against the driver's seat.

Jane heaved in and out stuttering, uneven breaths now, the weight of panic heavy on her chest. She wasn't removed enough from what had just happened to realize that Jack had become unmoving. Lost in terror and the realization of her folly, she could only grab at the door, fingers searching for the release but stumbling over shards of glass.

It wasn't until a body darkened the window that Jane realized she was not alone. Braced against the door was Dirk, unnaturally calm aside from his soft panting. His hands, partially protected by fingerless gloves, reached in through the opening and brushed aside glittering glass so he could unlock and open the door. Glass tinkled onto the pavement below, and he swept that away too with his boots. Only then did he squat down, then eye level with her, and offer her a hand.

"Are you hurt?" Dirk could easily have asked for the time with his tone of voice but, even in her fright, Jane could tell that he was inspecting her with a careful eye.

"He-he didn't--" She tried to say, but had to stop to breathe as she took his hand and he pulled her out of the vehicle and onto her feet.

From across the parking lot, Roxy and Jake then caught up, both breathing heavily from a full sprint. Roxy was the first of the two to reach them, only stopping short of barreling into Jane, her eyes wide and concerned.

"Oh my God, Janey, are you okay? You've got glass all over your clothes--here, let me brush you off. Oh, God, there's blood on your clothes! Did he get you?"

As Roxy dusted her off and babbled her worries, Jane saw that there was indeed blood on her clothing. It stood out against the pale fabrics of her blouse, dark specks of red against a muted blue, and she numbly thought of how annoying it would be to remove the stain. She might need to replace the shirt altogether.

Jake came last, his long legs of no reputation today. There was a strained look on his face and he bit at his lip at the sight of Jane and the broken window… and Jack.

"My God, what happened," he breathed, as if he were an innocent and clueless bystander. Roxy sent him a stern look, silently communicating that now was not the time to drag out the scene.

"Jake, could you call a cab? We need to get out of here," the blond suggested, and Jake leapt at the chance to be useful and focus on something else.

Dirk peered in through the open window and then back at them. He shook his head more at Roxy than Jane, and said simply, "Dead."

"He's some shot," Roxy murmured, then coughed in the back of her throat. "Are you okay, Janey? Did he hurt you?"

By now, she had managed to catch her breath, and adrenaline was slowly fading. Jane found her voice again and announced, "I'll be fine. I… I _am_ fine."

"Thank _God._ I thought we weren't going to make it to you in time, and just…" Roxy trailed off for a moment, her eyes flickering briefly to the side, where Jake struggled to explain their location over the phone; and she suddenly wrapped her arms around Jane and enveloped her in an embrace.

"I know I'm probably not supposed to do this, but I'm just glad you're okay!"

"Oh," was all Jane could say at first, unsure of how to respond. But before she could think much of it, her arms came up and she returned Roxy's hug in full. It was strange how these people were here out of obligation--she was their employer, and it was part of their job to keep her safe, after all--but their care was so genuine that Jane felt herself slowly release hold on the stress and terror that had crippled her moments ago. She couldn't imagine her mother acting this way; the woman would have been inconvenienced by an assassination attempt. That someone like Roxy, or Dirk, or Jake, cared at all about her well-being… It meant a great deal more than any of them could know.

"Not to interrupt, but what do you want done with him?" Dirk tapped at his shades twice and frowned. "We don't have a lot of time before we become popular."

Jane glanced into the vehicle and pressed her lips together tightly. "Is he really…?"

"Dead? Yeah. Jake got him from, like, six feet outside the door," Roxy confirmed, and Jane turned and squinted across the lot towards Skaia Net's building.

"From _there?_ Good Lord! That's yards away!"

So it had been Jake who had saved her. The man continued to produce reasons for her affection. She was too caught up in the moment to deny it this time.

"I know, right! I'm a good shot too, but I just don't feel confident enough to draw and shoot from that far! But he did it without even blinking!"

They fell silent then, all three of them regarding Jake still animatedly describing their location, his free hand gesturing about wildly as he paced. Perhaps a bit silly, but admirable nonetheless, Jake had earned their respect today.

"File an anonymous report," Jane said finally, eyes never leaving Jake. "As much as I dislike the man, it isn't right to leave him without some propriety."

"On it," Dirk agreed, and he moved a short distance away to focus on his own phone call.

Jane studied the jumbled mess of limbs and flesh in the driver's seat, and she blanched despite herself. Even now, devoid of life, Jack unnerved her and made her skin crawl. He couldn't hurt her now that he was dead, but it all was still so surreal; it seemed possible that he might collect himself, rise, and come after her again.

Roxy placed a tentative hand on her shoulder and offered her a smile.

"Hey, it's going to be okay. He's gone."

"I know, but it's not quite a forgettable incident now, is it?"

"No, I guess not, but hey!" Jane pulled her gaze away from the dark form and took in Roxy's kind eyes. "Now we can get a _real_ driver!"

Somewhere, she found the audacity to laugh.

"Roxy! That's terrible!" But oh, she laughed.

Jake stepped up to them, now finished with his phone call. He paused before Jane and bent slightly, openly inspecting her.

"Are you quite alright now, Miss Jane?"

"Yes, thank you. I hear you are quite the marksman."

"Oh, is that so?" Jake averted his gaze sheepishly and scratched at his head. "I didn't really think much of it at the time."

"Well, thank you anyways," Jane repeated, her voice soft. At her side, Roxy gave her a knowing look, much as Jane had done to her when they had first seen Dirk. As if sensing this was a prime moment to break up touching feelings, Dirk ended his call and returned to the group.

"An officer will be here shortly. We need to get a move on unless we want to become more than anonymous witnesses," he told them.

"Ah! The cab should be here any minute now!" Jake straightened and looked at either end of the block as if a taxi would pull up then.

"Why don't we go wait by the road and not in this parking lot, right by this dead guy," Roxy suggested, and goaded them away from what was soon to become an official crime scene.

"So, what do we do now?" Jake dared to ask, and Jane plucked her phone from a pocket to gander at the time.

"It is roughly the end of the lunch rush, I imagine. Why not get a bite to eat?"

"A swell plan! But where?"

"I know a place," Roxy offered. "I saw it in a brochure this morning while we were at the hotel! It's called the Sunny Side Up! Their food looked really good!"

"Sunny Side Up? Like eggs?" Jake questioned thoughtfully. "Is this a breakfast restaurant?"

"They did have a billion breakfast options, but they had not-breakfast things, too!"

"Turkey-bacon and avocado grilled cheese," Dirk suddenly stated. They looked at him with bewilderment. "I pulled up the menu," he explained.

Jake narrowed his eyes, perplexed. "Dirk, exactly how are you looking at the menu?" Seeing the other man tap his shades, Jake went slack-jawed. "Knot my knickers! Really?"

"No. And yes."

"Let me see!"

"Don't touch me--"

"Guys," Roxy called to them, and the group became aware of a vehicle slowing near them. Iconically yellow, the taxi stopped close by, and the driver, a quaint woman with a round face and her head wrapped in a scarf, lowered the windows.

"Are you Mr. English's party?"

"Quite right!" Jake beamed, then added, "I call shotgun!"

  


* * *

They huddled close, awkward at the physical contact, but without any choice, as they were seated in a semi-circular corner booth. Jane and Dirk sandwiched Roxy and Jake together on the inner seats, and they hunched over thin menus and deliberated over what to order--except for Dirk, who had already decided on his grilled cheese. In the end, Jane set the standard with pulled pork and a chai latte, and Roxy and Jake mimicked her order, more for lack of time than opinion.

"What _is_ chai?" Jake questioned once the server disappeared into the back.

"It's a type of tea," Jane was more than happy to educate him, to say anything to Jake at all. "It's a blend of black tea with spices, and it does very well in a latte, I think!"

Roxy rubbed her hands together in anticipation and said, "This will be my first latte!"

"Mine as well!" Jake echoed.

The two glanced at Dirk who busied himself with a glass of orange juice, and only paused between sips to ask, "What?"

"You really like orange, huh?" Roxy leaned in and reached for the glass, obviously intending to grab it for a sip, but Dirk swatted her hand away mercilessly.

"You should have ordered some if you wanted some."

"Aw!" She retreated back into her seat with a pout, then shot Dirk another question. "So how do you get away with carrying your sword everywhere? Shouldn't someone freak out about a big ol' weapon? Like, Jake and I can conceal carry, but you can't exactly do that."

"Cosplay," was the simple reply.

"Does that really work?"

Dirk set his drink down and folded his hands around it in blatant silence, the answer clear. If it didn't work, he wouldn't be carrying the sword around, would he?

Jane hid her amusement behind a sip of water. It was good to see that the group was getting along. She had been wary at first that there would be rivalry and tension, but it really was as if they were almost friends.

Almost. She hadn't moved past that issue yet, it seemed.

"Pardon me, Miss Jane, but do you have any interest in a good film?" Jake leaned out and eyed her curiously.

"Film? As in, movies?" 

A sparkle appeared in Jake's eye. "Exactly, yes! I consider myself something of a film aficionado, particularly genres of the adventurous and action-packed sort!"

"I'm not terribly familiar with those," Jane admitted. She cupped her chin in her palms and rested on her elbows, savoring the casual conversation. Jake took this as a sign to plunge into more detail about his favorite films, but was cut short as their server returned with their lattes.

"Your food will be out in just a few more minutes," the man promised, before hustling away to another table.

Jane breathed in the aroma of blended spices and blew on her cup gently before daring to sip at her mug. An excellent brew. To her side, Roxy and Jake both sputtered at their drinks, evidently unprepared for the temperature.

"Hot!" They whined, and Jane was unable to suppress a giggle.

"It isn't always," she consoled them.

"This is why orange juice is better than your seasoned leaf water," Dirk cut in. "It'll never fool you about what to expect."

"You look like a five year old drinking that," Roxy quipped.

"Age defying properties, what can I say."

Jake frowned at his latte and pushed it away. "Speaking of age, how old are you, Dirk? It's hard to tell with your choice of eyewear."

"Apparently, five," he said with a smirk, sipping at his beverage.

"You're at least an adult, right?"

"Why? Are you asking with 'adult things' in mind?"

Jake grimaced and scooted away from the other man and into Roxy.

"No! I was only curious!"

"You're all the same age," Jane revealed quietly, and they startled at that.

"Really? What about you, Janey?"

She thought sourly of the failed attempt at her birthday celebration and almost frowned. But they weren't to blame for it--her mother was. In truth, the three young adults around her had treated her better in their short time together than her mother had her entire life.

There was no harm in making friends after all, she decided.

"I just turned twenty roughly two weeks ago," Jane said honestly.

"Two weeks ago? Why, that's when you interviewed us!" Jake proclaimed.

She hummed her assent into her latte and studied the table. There was no point in making a deal of it. Jane would be glad to forget the offense, frankly. But the others were oblivious to her feelings on the matter, and probed indelicately.

"What do Crockers get to do on their birthdays?" Roxy questioned lightheartedly.

"I made a cake," she replied hesitantly. That seemed ordinary enough. The blond plainly expected something more, her eyes narrowed sharply.

"Aaaand?"

"And--"

What she would have said, she didn't know, but Jane gratefully let the topic drop when the server approached the table with their food.

Mounds of pulled pork arrived, along with Dirk's grilled cheese, and conversation fell to the wayside as they commenced lunch.

Somewhere along the way, with a mouthful of food in her mouth, Roxy gushed out, "This is so good! I wish we could do this every day."

"It is fantastic, isn't it," Jake agreed just before diving into another hearty bite.

Jane flicked her eyes up towards Dirk, half-expecting him to make a similar statement, but the man only finished his third cup of juice and excused himself to use the restroom. His absence did nothing to diminish the others' excitement, however; Roxy and Jake made short work of the rest of their plates and settled back contentedly.

She was only halfway through her own plate, suddenly keenly conscious of being the last one left eating. Watching these other people eat was like witnessing a starved pack of wolves gorge themselves on a kill. How often had she left a meal with leftovers only to forget about them and throw them out after it had expired? When was the last time she had been hungry enough to scarf her meal down with such enthusiasm? When had she ever worked for her food beyond pretentious social gatherings and minimal office tasks?

"Hey Janey, you okay? You look like someone spit in your food," Roxy probed gently, and Jane willed her thoughts away from piteous venues. She had no right to resent her affluent opportunities, however unethically it weighed on her. There was no shame in having more if it was put to good use, surely.

It was time to solidify those party plans.

"I was thinking," she started, securing their attention quickly. "I'd like to host a small get-together at my home once we've returned to Washington. Do something pleasant with the four of us as a reward for a job well done."

"That sounds smashing!" Jake cheered with a smile that made her heart warm. Roxy shared that ecstatic look, her eyes alight with anticipation.

"Will there be cake?" The blond practically begged more than asked, and Jane was now set on the idea of cooking up a large spread for everyone.

"I will make sure there is cake. I plan to provide plenty of food, so prepare your biggest appetites!"

"Oh, we'll have to have a film, then," Jake pleaded. It was now his turn to make demands. "I could bring one myself!"

"What did I miss?" Dirk slipped back into the booth and tuned in to the discussion.

"Janey's going to throw us a party!" Roxy squealed at him, hands clapping together.

"I could bring National Treasure," Jake offered, a dreamy look spread across his face. "That is a safe place to start with Mr. Cage's list of films, I should think!"

Dirk made a face of disgust. "Dude, Nic Cage sucks."

"He's a classic!" Jake started to argue, but Roxy silenced him with a hand and then gestured to Jane.

"Hey, look, Janey is the host! She can decide what we watch and everything! I'm sure she has good taste, yeah?"

Jane couldn't help but smile at that. It was like having siblings, in a way--or what she pictured a comfortable, familial ribbing amongst siblings would be like--and their interest and excitement over her proposition was very fulfilling. It would be too easy to become accustomed to this kind of interaction. Too easy to lose herself in the pleasantries of company that had long evaded her, and forfeit the corporate gains of self-discipline.

But she wanted this badly, and after the day she had survived, she deserved it, Jane convinced herself.

"I'll see that everything is of tip top quality," she assured them, and relished in the bright grins on at least two of three faces. On Dirk's face, she thought she saw his lips twitch upwards, and that was close enough for the time being.

Everything would be dandy, Jane decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that Nic Cage is typically associated with John more than Jake, but I'm not familiar enough with McConaughey (I had to Google just how to spell his name) to include him in this fic. Apologies to any McConaughey fans!


	7. A Party

**May 2nd  
Agenda: Party**

"Someone is going to steal the Declaration of Independence," Nicholas Cage, cast as Ben, said somberly on the screen. Against Dirk's vehement (and unsupported) protests, National Treasure had inevitably wound up on the night's list of movies.

From the dining table across the room, Jane poured herself more strawberry lemonade, and gandered at her guests. Sprawled out on the floor was Jake who was so absorbed in the movie that he didn't notice that Jane had moved. Behind him was Dirk, stiffly situated in one corner of the couch, and Roxy huddled in a blanket at the center. Her own seat was empty mostly because Jane was thirsty after eating too much ham, the salt content overbearing.

True to her word, Jane had cooked a feast. The table had borne the heavy weight of two glazed hams, a daunting dish of macaroni and cheese, buttery corn, spiced greens, pillowy rolls, cherry cobbler, and a three-tiered frosted chocolate cake. Fancy glass bowls offered punch, sodas, and strawberry lemonade. It had consumed nearly the whole of her day, but she proudly had prepared everything herself, and had set the time for dinner precisely at six.

Now, it was nearly seven. Conversation at the dinner table had quickly petered out in favor of young adults gorging themselves on massive plates full of home cooked food, a feature that had been missing from three out of four lives for years. Jane basked in the unspoken compliments that her cooking had been so readily and thoroughly devoured. Upon second glance, there wasn't much food left; several slices of ham, a few spoonfuls of cheesy pasta, one roll, and half of only the cake remained. It was good that she had made so much, and they had deserved every bit of it.

The memory of their outing to Chicago still curdled her stomach. Jane could vividly recall the unmasked venom in Jack's eye, the way he had viewed her as an detestable animal barely worth the slaughter. The walls of the living room flickered from the movie, but Jane's mind stuttered over the fact that she would be dead now had it not been for the three people seated in front of her television.

Frankly, she shouldn't have been included in the errand. In the back of her mind, Jane questioned her mother's judgment at having sent her and the entire party at Chez Crocker, at having hired someone like Jack as their designated driver, at scheduling a mere phone conference because she was yet again too busy to see her daughter face to face. There were too many uncharacteristically poor choices at play, like the ordeal had been set up.

But how could that be, when her mother claimed to love her? What caring mother would put her only child at such risk--and for what?

"It's invisible," Roxy laughed in disbelief at the screen, as one can only laugh at a movie that is "so bad, it's actually good," as she would later describe it.

"Shh!" Jake hissed at her, his head never leaving the television. "Ben is moments away from unleashing a speech of heart-wrenching consequence!"

"Please, wrench out my heart," Dirk sighed, but Jake only shushed again with more emphasis.

Jake, who, arguable taste in movies aside, had been the one to neutralize the unforeseen danger Jack had sprung upon her. Jake, and the other two as well, who showered her with worry and pampered her with friendly chatter and merriment. No, not just Jake--all three of them--they had swiftly and suddenly ambushed her heart with a peculiar attachment that made for a hard lump in the back of her throat. Jane swallowed the last of her drink and discarded the cup into the nearby trash bag, and returned to those she now considered her friends.

Crockercorp be damned, she liked them too much and owed them too much for them to be any less than friends, even if they didn't know each other that well yet.

Roxy scooted to the side to allow her more room on the couch, and Jane eased herself down and against the armrest, just as Ben unraveled his master plan to steal the Declaration of Independence.

"Not to spoil myself, but does he succeed?" Jane asked quietly, doing her best to seem engaged by the movie. It lacked the finesse or degree of romantic thrill she preferred, but it was more for Jake than her (or Roxy or Dirk) and so she was willing to be a good sport about it.

Jake made a noise, a mixture of pleasure and suspense, and said only, "You shall see!"

She did see. Or at least, she tolerated the rest of the movie with a growing wonder at how anyone enjoyed this sort of film. To each his own, she supposed.

When the credits began to cascade upwards along the screen, Jane pulled herself off of the couch and flicked the lights back on, then stepped to the table and began assembling leftover piles. Roxy excused herself to use the bathroom, and the two men began to argue over the quality of the movie.

"How is that supposed to be an ending?" Dirk complained, a hand thrust out at the credits. "He failed to accomplish anything."

"Come now, Dirk,where is your sense of adventure? It would be boring if he simply heisted the document and it ended there!" Jake tutted disappointedly at the couch's lone occupant like it was a dog who wasn't meant to be on the furniture instead of a man. This earned him a grunt of disagreement from Dirk, who then began a philosophically-tinted rant.

"If you think a poorly executed open ending negates boredom, then you have an issue with self-fulfillment. There should be an eventual finality about personal goals. If you never arrive, then the journey is a failure."

"Wouldn't you say the journey itself matters just as much as the destination?"

"That's an experience, not a journey. A journey's literal definition is to travel from one point to another. That other point needs to be reached for the journey to end; if that never happens, then the journey is never completed. I think we can agree that incompletion is failure."

"How then would you define the act of those who seek to travel for the sake of it and don't want it to end?"

"Are you asking me to invalidate sightseeing trips? Because I would counter that it's a different goal from the get go. If the intention is to simply be on the journey, the act itself achieves success; but most journeys take place because people are trying to get somewhere. These aren't the same issue. If the premise of National Treasure was for Ben to 'rescue' the Declaration of Independence in a series of history-seeking adventures, then the ending suits the story. But this isn't a series, and the only thing Ben accomplished was intriguing an unnecessarily inserted romantic attraction. Try telling me this is a romance film next. I'm waiting."

"Well, I can't say that," Jake huffed, "But I'll have you know it is actually a series!"

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Did Jake tell a funny joke?" Roxy emerged from the bathroom with a knowing grin. There had been enough of these conversations in the past few days for them all to know that most of what Jake said was targetable for entertainment. Sometimes, it was the kind of entertainment that made people switch the channel to something else--like the weather. At other times, it was more like a humor too hard not to share.

"I was just enlightening Dirk to the fact that there are more movies in the National Treasure repertoire!" Jake declared.

"It isn't a series if there's only one movie. You withheld that information."

"Hush, Dirk, with your dour and obvious statements!"

"Or what? Will you embark on a journey to come kick my ass?"

Now was as decent of a time to interrupt things as any other time, Jane decided. During the extent of their back-and-forth, she had collected the leftovers, with exception of the cake, into an aluminum tray, and sealed the top with more foil. The dirty dishes had been piled into the sink to soak, and Jane dusted her hands off onto her dress.

"Would anyone like to take any leftovers when it's time to go?"

"Ooh!" Roxy's hand shot into the air before anyone else could respond. "Me!" But she was not without competition, as Jake then stood and eyed the tray hungrily.

"Is there only one?" He questioned.

"Don't let Jake have it," Dirk commented from the couch. "Not unless he agrees to forfeit all movie-selecting rights."

"Hey!"

"I can always cook more food in the future," Jane soothed, but a smile spread across her face as she added, "Perhaps I could award these leftovers as a prize for some healthy brainstorming, though."

She moved over to the living space and rejoined the group. It was easier to explain things without shouting across the room, and it doubled as a buffer between Jake and Dirk. The two seemed ready to go at it right in her home!

"This group needs a name," Jane confessed. "I thought it would be fun if we threw some ideas out and picked one together."

"How about the Crockerteers," Roxy suggested immediately, but received negative responses just as quickly. "You guys are no fun."

Jake snapped his fingers. "If we're to play on words, how about Crockerdiles!"

"What a load of 'crock,'" Dirk retorted tauntingly.

"I'll 'crock' your noggin, Mr. Strider!"

"Please, gentlemen," Jane laughed. "This requires teamwork."

More ideas were flung into the air.

"Bread Winners."

"Crocker Crusaders!"

"Janey's Justiciars!"

"The Companions!"

"Team Alpha!"

"The Testy Triangle."

"How about the Dirk Sucks group!"

"I like that one," Jane said suddenly, and three heads snapped to regard her in shock. "Not the 'Dirk Sucks' name!" She hastily clarified, "Team Alpha, I mean."

"That's mine," Roxy shouted triumphantly, fists pumped into the air.

"What do you all think?" Jane questioned. It had a nice ring to it, and the connotation of the word appealed to her newfound sense of friendship. If there were no dissenting votes, she would gladly label the group as Team Alpha.

"It's quite alright with me," Jake nodded.

Her eyes swept over to Dirk, who shrugged. "It's as good as anything else."

"Then this group is officially titled Team Alpha," Jane announced, fully pleased. "And as it was Roxy's idea, the leftovers will be awarded to her."

"Sweet!"

"Foiled by your creativity, Roxy! At least there's still cake for the rest of us," Jake consoled himself, retreating to the remaining dessert with considerable enthusiasm. The man was bottomless, and no great wonder; the tallest and more muscular of the three, Jake's healthy appetite only served to fuel his impressive physique. A pleasant sight to see, even with his back turned. Maybe more so with his back turned...

Oh! Not now, Crocker--not in front of everyone--

"Soo, Janey," Roxy cut into her thoughts, and Jane wrenched her gaze away from Jake's form and onto Roxy's perceptive face. "Have you ever played any drinking games?"

"Drinking games? I'm not sure what you mean." It was hard not to be nervous now, the way Roxy grinned. Sharks had safer faces.

"Like… Never Have I Ever!"

"Are we returning to our teen years, Roxy?" Dirk snorted, but he did scoot forward in his seat and offer his attention.

"Age is just a number! Anyways, it's really simple, Janey. You go, 'Never have I ever,' and then say something you've never done. But it's a drinking game, so you try to say something everyone else has done, so they take a drink."

"I see. It sounds like a very telling game." Jane considered the act of becoming drunk a rather private thing. She didn't feel confident enough in her relationships here to throw everything to the wind! "By 'drinks,' I assume you are referring to alcohol?

"Yep! But we could just go for soda or something if you're not comfortable with everyone getting tipsy in your house!"

The idea tempted her, it really did. It would have been a rebellious act of freedom against all responsibilities and familial obligations. But in the end, Jane settled for shots of cherry cola. With some help from Roxy, once Jake had finished his cake, they were all situated in a circle on the floor.

"I'll start, since I brought it up, and we can go to my right," Roxy said from her right. That meant Dirk would be next, followed by Jake, and she would be last. It would give her time to learn the ropes.

"Before we begin, let me ask, how is a winner decided?" Jane directed to Roxy, puzzled, hoping that they wouldn't be required to drink the entire bowl of soda. Upon reflection, why had she agreed to this so close to bedtime, anyways?

"Let's say whenever everyone else quits," came the cheeky reply. "Or whenever, really. So then, is everyone ready?"

They all uttered various noises to signal they were ready, and Roxy began with a relatively safe statement.

"Never have I ever used a urinal!"

"That's unfairly sexist," Dirk muttered, but he and Jake each poured themselves a shot of cola and downed it.

"Got to keep it easy for Janey the first time around," Roxy winked.

"It would be easier for all of us if we were drinking orange soda." Dirk tinkered with his glass for a moment and then said, "Never have I ever actually been drunk."

It was hard to say who was surprised more when they all--except Dirk, of course--took shots.

"I don't imagine you as much of a drinker, Jake," Jane said curiously.

"Nor I you, Miss Jane! It was only once, for me, at a Thanksgiving dinner my Gran made for us. Said it was a special occasion and let me sip at something, but I took too many sips, as it turns out!"

"That's so cute, Jake!" Roxy giggled at him. "How old were you?"

"Twelve, I think!"

"I was allowed my first glass of wine at a dinner party when I was sixteen," Jane recalled. "I believe I flirted with an older gentlemen next to me as a result. He was rather patient about it and said I had a good chance of finding a handsome young suitor in a few years."

"A kind fellow," Jake agreed. He then scratched his head and thought for a moment. "I suppose it's my turn then, isn't it! Well, never have I ever, erm, well, besides my Gran, of course, kissed a girl!"

They fastened their eyes onto him in an awkward quiet for a moment before Roxy burst into laughter, and Jane snickered softly.

"Come on, English, is that all you can come up with?"

"Well, I haven't!" He insisted, flustered, cheeks dusted with a blush.

"That is so lame!" But none of them took drinks, and they moved on to Jane, who managed to compose herself just in time.

"Well! Let's see. Never have I ever…" What she wanted to say was that she had never had friends over for a party, or dinner, or that she had never had any friends at all. That she had never experienced a real social life until now, for all of her business meetings and fancy banquets. But that was too forward and piteous for her tastes, and instead she finished with, "Driven a car!"

"Really?" Roxy questioned, as the three of them knocked back more shots of cola.

"Mmhm. I have learned how, of course, through videos, but I've always had a driver."

"That's not so fun, I guess…"

"Perhaps, but it does allow me time to focus on other things in the car." How many times had she briefed herself on a meeting, or fielded criticism from her mother on the way somewhere? Or popped a portable breakfast down the hatch because she had stayed up too late watching romance shows?

Well, now that gave her an idea for the next round. She was getting into this.

"Hmmm, well, my turn then! Never have I ever lost a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors!"

To that, only the men drank, while Roxy chortled with delight.

"I have never lost the game, either, but I have never played," Jane admitted, to which Roxy shifted to face her direction.

"Want to try it really quick? All you do is hold out rock, paper, or scissors on the count of three," the other woman explained, demonstrating each form as she spoke. "You go, 'Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!' and then show what you pick like this. Rock beats scissors, scissors beats paper, and paper beats rock."

"I am familiar with it, but it's not the sort of activity typically involved with stiff business folk." Nevertheless, Jane mimicked each of the forms and nodded to herself. "I'll give it a go. I'm ready."

"Okay! Here we go!"

As Jake and Dirk leaned forward to get a better look, the two women chanted together, "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!" and thrust out their hands. Jane's fingers pointed out in scissors and Roxy's hand clenched in a fist, which promptly bumped onto Jane's hand.

"Got it!"

"How do you know what to pick?" Jane asked curiously as they withdrew their hands.

"I guess I'm just lucky!"

"I'll have a go at you," Jake declared, hands at the ready.

"Oh, okay, I'll knock your block off, English!"

"We'll see about that!"

Again came "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!" and Roxy uttered a smug cry of victory when her "scissors" snipped Jake's palm.

"Got you!"

"You were played, English," Dirk shook his head. "Her words left a forceful impression on you, so you pictured rock, and chose paper. She anticipated this and was able to win because of it."

"It's not rocket science, Dirk," Roxy frowned. "It's just a fun little game of chance."

"Then it won't matter if I beat you," he challenged.

Now Jane and Jake turned their attention onto the other two, who locked eyes as well as they could with Dirk's sunglasses in the way.

"I'd like to see you try," Roxy retorted smugly, readying her hands. Dirk did the same, and they engaged in the traditional "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

Two "papers." They chanted again in unison, this time with more speed, and again two palms emerged. Roxy stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth and furrowed her brows, clearly focused despite her claim that it was only a "little game of chance." There was a reputation to uphold, and losing to someone as openly arrogant as Dirk would be eternally damning.

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

Both held out fists.

"Oh, come on!"

"Getting nervous?"

"You wish! I'll beat you this time!"

"What makes you so sure?"

But Roxy ignored the taunt, and it was settled with one last round after all. In sync, they pumped their hands three times. Out shot Dirk's hand, like a snake, with scissors. From Roxy came a fist, which she pounded on his fingers victoriously.

"Ha! Eat it, Strider!"

Dirk held his hand out motionless for a moment before he slowly retracted it back into his lap and shrugged. "You got me."

"Damn right I did!"

"Do I still get a turn, then, or are we playing Rock, Paper, Scissors now?"

"Oh, right! Go ahead, Dirk, sorry."

An unintelligible grunt fell out of Dirk's mouth for a moment before he said, "Never have I ever drank milk."

"You must be joking," Jake laughed, but his face fell when Dirk stared blankly at the center of the circle. "You're serious!"

"Milk is essential for growing bones," Jane chided gently, as if there was any way to change the past and make Dirk catch up on his missing nutrients.

"Hey, O.J. is where it's at. Milk is bestial titty juice."

Roxy slapped her hands over her mouth, aghast at the choice of words. "No! Have you _had_ chocolate milk?"

"That's not healthy--"

"Forget about healthy, Janey! It's good!"

Dirk shook his head and thumbed at Jake. "Your turn, English."

"I can't believe you, Dirk," Jake huffed. "A crime, that, to not have ever savored the exquisite benefits of fresh milk!" But he relented quickly, thoughtfully revealing, "Never have I ever ridden a bike!"

"You serious?" It was Dirk's turn to say as he was the first to drink, followed by Roxy.

Jane hummed aloud as she thumbed through her memories and was soon pleased to find nothing that suggested she had ever ridden a bike. Or was she more displeased? It seemed everyone else had more fulfilling lives than she did as a sheltered individual of privilege. The irony was not lost on her.

"I always walked with Gran," Jake reminisced briefly, a tender smile on his face. "On rare occasions we would take the car. She had an old bike with a basket fastened on the front, but I never used it! Anyways, Miss Jane, I turn it over to you!"

"Ah! Well, let's see. Never have I ever burnt an egg!"

"Who has time for cooking," Roxy joked, but blinked in surprise as both Jake and Dirk polished off more cola. "You guys, apparently."

Jake laughed, a rich, deep sound that warmed the room. "A whole pan of them! I was trying to surprise my Gran when I was a wee lad, but then a bee flew into the kitchen, and I ran from the room and locked myself in the bathroom for an hour!"

"Oh my god."

"Once," Dirk cut in. "Just one egg. Never again."

"I could help you, Roxy," Jane offered. "It's quite easy, and quick to boot!"

"Sure, why not? And I think it's my turn now! What do you guys say we make this the last round? Make it good?"

They agreed, unsure of Roxy's definition of "good," but it was getting late enough for Jane to yawn and glance over at the time. 9:56. Goodness! Where had the time gone? But she had enjoyed every minute of it, and already pictured them doing it again, and again, and again after that.

"Alrighty! Never have I ever had a tattoo!"

"That's cheating," Dirk informed her after swallowing another shot of soda. They had all seen the marks on his shoulder.

"It's a fact," she countered without hesitation.

"Is it bothersome to get tatted up, Dirk?" Jake regarded the other man's shoulder with furrowed brows. "I've heard that some degree of pain is involved!"

"It can sting."

"You interested in getting tattoos, Jake?" Roxy grinned. "You could get one of those smoking guns or something."

"The only smoking guns I need, madam, are these!" Jake flexed, mostly playfully, and they snickered at him, but not for long. Roxy's smirk dissolved when Dirk voiced his turn.

"Never have I ever been caught shoplifting."

The group exchanged subtle, interested glances for a moment before Roxy groaned and tossed another shot of cola down her throat.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel singled out," she groused. "I only was caught once, and I was, like, fourteen, okay?"

"What on earth would you be trying to take at fourteen?" Jake speculated more to himself than asked, but Roxy filled in the blanks for him.

"Tampons," she laughed, not a trace of shame about her. Jane curled her lips into her teeth in an awkward smile and even let out a laugh of her own when she saw Jake grimace at the information.

"Oh."

"Hah! You should see your face! But they let me have it, seeing as I needed it, and all." She gestured loosely at her lap and this time Jake made a noise of protest.

"This story keeps getting better," Dirk muttered sarcastically.

Jane pursed her lips together then and wondered why Roxy had felt pushed to steal something so commonly needed as a young woman. Why had she not simply asked her parents? Too curious, and not aware of this more personal detail of Roxy's life--she hadn't read too far into the files--she asked, "Did your mother not have any to spare?"

It was fleeting--the wake of a ghost, barely--the look of careful blankness that traced over Roxy's face. She had practiced this look many times before, stared it down in the mirror when she wasn't sure what to feel or what she felt safe to put on display for the world around her. It masked the startled jolt that flashed through her just long enough for her to grab some composure. Her voice was still flat, though, as she replied softly, "No, she… she was all out by the time I needed them."

"Oh," was all Jane could say, sensing that somehow, she had overstepped a boundary--that she had pulled the plug on something good that had been going around. She wasn't the only one, either, as she saw Dirk shift uncomfortably, head pointedly fixed down at his hands. 

Jake loudly cleared his throat, effectively ending the conversation with a nervous titter,"Well! I've hardly anything so scandalous to top--or not top, as it were! But since we seem to be on the subject of more worldly activities, this only seems appropriate! Never have I ever had sex!"

The tension remained in the air for only a second or two longer before the group promptly burst into disbelieving laughter, each for their own reasons. There was something about Jake's tone, an ironic humor wrapped about the way he mentioned _sex_ , that it was impossible not to laugh. Tears welled up in the corners of Roxy's eyes. Jane bit her lip and chuckled into her hands, cheeks flushed. Even Dirk had finally been broken, a husky bark staggered into the air, his ribcage spasming with each breath.

"That… That's not something guys usually are proud to admit," Roxy wheezed out, swabbing her eyes with her fingers. "Oh my gosh, wow."

"This one will be hard to beat!" Jane hooted.

Jake furrowed his brows and shrank into himself as the magnitude of his confession began to settle on him. "No need to lay it into me so mercilessly! It's all in good fun," he whined.

"You wouldn't know what laying involved," Dirk chuckled wryly.

They teased Jake for a while, all at his expense, and he bore the weight of their jesting well enough. In a way, Jake had sacrificed himself for the rest of them so that their spirits could be again refreshed with merriment and the cares of the world could be shed from their hearts for a little while longer.

Jane found the situation to hold a bittersweet charm. She wiped moisture from her own eyes and breathed deeply, glad that this would be the last round. It was difficult to choose something "right" as the finishing statement, but she felt comfortable enough after a moment's deliberation.

"I'm not sure this fits the rules, but here goes! Never have I ever had such good fun before," she announced with a wide smile. And then Jane faltered for a moment as she saw their faces flicker with an unexpected edge of surprise. Had she said something amiss yet again?--gone for something too sappy and made the cheer stale?

"Me too," Roxy suddenly agreed. By her, Dirk nodded. Jane's eyes lifted up to meet Jake's, his green ones twinkling warmly as he dipped his head at her as well, and her heart skipped a beat.

So this was what it was like to have friends. This was what it was like to love.

"Well, things ended up a little later than I expected," she clapped her hands together and rose, dusting off her clothes. The clock read 10:23 and it was indeed past any ordinary social hours. By this time, she was usually snugly tucked in bed with a good book or film. But tonight had been the first party, if one would call it that, with her new _friends,_ and Jane hoped that it would not be the last.

The four of them cleared soda and shot glasses from the floor. As a team, they tidied up the furniture and bathroom, and Jake cleaned dishes and loaded the dishwasher. Over her earned leftovers, Roxy gloated to Jane and Dirk.

"I'm going to pack on the pounds after this! You're a really good cook, Janey!"

"Thanks," Dirk added. His face was once again impassive, but he seemed more relaxed than when they had started the event.

It had been a good idea after all, Jane decided. They had learned more about each other and enjoyed some much-needed fun. Already she considered what she might cook next time--there would be a next time, wouldn't there?--and her face was aglow at the excitement of the thought.

"You're very welcome, and thank you all for the delightful games," Jane told them. From behind the other two came Jake, patting his hands dry on his pants. Delightful, indeed. "We must do it again soon!"

Her guests exited through the front door one by one, each issuing their own goodnights, until at last Jane shut and locked the door after them and was once more quite alone. But this time she had the comforting knowledge that she had made friends, and that she would see them again. Her spirits lifted by a future with prospectively pleasant memories to be made, Jane's steps were light as she made her way into her bedroom and unwinded for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rare happy chapter! :)


	8. Budding Relationships

**May 3rd  
Agenda: Converse**

Jane wanted to ignore the buzzing on her night stand. A quick peek at the clock confirmed her suspicions that it was far too early to handle any phone calls, what with the time being barely a quarter after six; but she knew better than to let the call through to voicemail, because the only contact who would ever interrupt her at this time was her mother.

Her first report was due, and no doubt she was expected to deliver it during this call.

With a sigh of resignation, Jane reached out from underneath the sheets and pulled the phone to her face. She thumbed at the screen and accepted the call, eyes trained on the time. 6:16. She prayed this wouldn't take long.

"Good morning," she greeted with as much cheer as she could muster. It wouldn't do to sound half asleep, even if she was; her mother would never let her hear the end of it.

"Good morning, Jane. How are things for my big girl?"

Jane almost rolled her eyes. She could picture her mother now, seated in some expensive chair at an equally overpriced desk, thumbing through papers, only a fraction of her attention allotted for a phone call with her daughter. That was the way of things when one was so _busy_ all of the time. Jane suspected that her mother made time for what was important to her, she just didn't usually happen to be one of those things. But Chez Crocker and Team Alpha had obviously received considerable financial investment, and as heiress, Jane knew the upkeep involved fell to her as a test of sorts. So it was no surprise that her mother would keep tabs on her progress, though it was more for business than any familial bond.

Might as well plunge into things and get it over with.

"Things are well. Thank you for checking in, mother."

"Yeah, of course. How's Chez Crocker treating you?"

She wasn't sure if it was the clash of glamorous effect against informal speech patterns, or if it was the continual self-satisfying assumptions her mother always made, but something rubbed her the wrong way, as these conversations often did. A moment of reflection later would reveal that it was the latter issue; Chez Crocker had been named by her mother, but the project--the team--the friends--it was hers. Why was it so difficult for the woman to ever recognize anything she had accomplished? But that was the point of these reports, wasn't it?

"It's decent enough. Quite a renovation. Sa--" She caught herself quickly, about to commend the receptionist. Best not to use first names unless necessary. That sort of detail suggested forbidden intimacy and would cause trouble. "--dly, there is no communal kitchen, but I am aware that each private room has its own kitchenette, and that will suffice. The secretary provided me with plenty of information."

"Good, good. I trust the recruits aren't giving you any trouble?"

"No, not at all. They are quite agreeable, and their skills are very satisfactory."

Involuntarily, she remembered she had been desperately pressed against the dashboard of the SUV, and how Jack had instantly separated from her at the impact of Jake's expert shots. More than impressive. But to relay the situation would inevitably turn into a scolding at best. There would be no bragging on Jake this morning.

"You got the files?"

"If you are referring to the four sequential files from Skaia Net, yes." She had Roxy to thank for that. The woman was full of useful surprises. "I can send them over to you after this call."

"See that you do. And how was your trip to Chicago? Your first time?"

"Yes. It went well." She supposed it was something of a lie to say it had went well, but there had been no problems with the actual objectives, and so she could safely share that in good conscience. "Both packages were delivered intact."

"That's what I like to hear." There was a pause, and Jane thought the call nearly over. She shifted into her pillows and entertained the notion of going back to sleep, when her mother continued, "I heard some interesting news from the grunts downstairs."

There was no news that could be considered good in this moment. Still, Jane did her best to seem interested and unaffected.

"Oh? What news?"

"Word is you had Jack Noir killed."

She knew. Oh, God, she knew! Jane gripped her phone so hard that her hand ached. Her innards felt like ice. There was no tale she could tell to get out of it, no excuses to be made--

"I am so proud of you!" Came the shriek through the speaker.

Jane stared vacantly into the air, unsure if she had heard correctly. Proud of her? Her mother, proud of her? Words she had waited to hear for years--but it was wrong. The praise now taunted her, seeped into her like a sick thing, a poison, and she choked on it.

"W-what?"

"Look at you, acting like a grown up! I knew you'd handle him right."

"You--" Her trip to Chicago had not been an oversight. Her mother knew. Everything--the hotel, the driver--Jack--it had been intentional. Anticipated. _Expected._ Had Jack knowingly cooperated, or had he been another unwitting pawn of Crockercorp's delusional head? And there were greater problems if she couldn't determine with any certainty whether Jack's attempted murder had been voluntary or not, or even an independent action.

"I know, I know. Don't let it get to your head. But you did good."

"Aren't you supposed to help protect me from threats?" Jane demanded. She would not let her voice shake! But oh, her body now trembled so hard it was like she was shivering in her sheets! She didn't know if she was angry, or afraid, but she was definitely upset, and nothing her mother said made it any better! If anything, it only grew worse. "You knew about Jack, and you still let him--he--I almost died!"

The cat was out of the bag now. It was too late to pretend the incident had never happened, and she didn't want to pretend anymore, not now.

"That's what your little group is for! I picked you some good ones, huh? Did you ever come up with a name for the brats?"

"They are not brats! They saved my life, which is more than I can say for you!" Jane huffed into the phone as she sat up in bed and squinted angrily at the wall. "We did come up with a name, and it is a respectable name for respectable people, and I won't have them spoken about with anything other than respect!"

"Jane, dear, listen. I am your mother. I'm the one who deserves some respect." She had overstepped. But she couldn't take back what she had said now.

"You never act like it," she snapped bitterly. Whether she was referring to the absence of a mother figure, or the concept of respect, was left unsaid.

"There are still plenty of things you just don't understand. But these kids are just tools, Jane. Me and you, we're the real deal. I run the world, and you need to learn how to do the same."

Learn to do things the way they are expected of you, or else, of course.

"They're not tools," she couldn't help but protest. "They're _people,_ with real feelings and thoughts and lives!"

"They're mercenaries I picked for you, and you're supposed to be their boss, not their buddy. Understand?"

Friendships were still forbidden. Her affections for the team would need to remain concealed.

"I understand," she lied, knuckles white against her phone and sheets, jaw rigid.

"Good. It's easier this way, Jane, trust me. Anyways, what's the name of your little group?"

She couldn't hide the begrudgement from her voice. "Team Alpha."

"That's cute. Oh, look at the time, it's 6:20 already. I need to get going. I'm super busy today."

"Of course."

"Have fun, Jane. Oh, and tell your friends I say hi next time you have a little get together."

Jane listened to the silence in her ear as the call dropped as quickly as her stomach.

Her mother had known about everything. There had never been a covert, personal act of rebellion. There had been no hope to stealthily make changes to the moral structure of Crockercorp, not with her mother in power. The woman had been aware of her doings all along, and had let her amuse herself like a parent allows a child to play house. All along, she had never been in control.

She would never truly be free.

With a burgeoning sense of defeat, Jane flung her phone across the room and huddled into her pillows with a sob.

* * *

It was nearly four in the afternoon when Jane mustered the energy to drag herself out of bed. Her stomach growled at her lethargy, and it was the only thing she really felt besides a discouraged numbness.

In times of severe distress, a bout of baking usually did the trick in perking her back up; but this disparate listlessness was not something she could work away. No, the situation required something more nurturing. It was the sort of day which required a hearty casserole in inordinate quantity.

Sausage, shredded potatoes, mushrooms, greens, cheeses, cream, butter, and various spices all merged into a questionable-looking mass which Jane unceremoniously dumped into a long and deep baking dish and deposited into a raging hot oven. Her glasses fogged at the blast of heat and she shut the door quickly.

All that was left to do was wait.

What she needed was a hot shower, but as most people whose dreams had suffered a grievous blow, Jane only wanted to sit--anywhere would do, perhaps at the dining table, why not--and a great deal of nothing was done.

There were no friends to phone without her mother knowing, no company to be had without inviting those spying eyes and ears. Her rebellious spirit had been dashed by the realization of her ignorant buffoonery--that is what her mother would have expected, at least.

Jane frowned at the oven as if it had burned her meal. Who was her mother to deny her the fundamental issues of life such as morality and companionship? How could the woman have been so glib about the incident in Chicago? Did human lives mean nothing to her? Did her daughter mean nothing to her?

She knew all of the answers, and it only saddened her more.

Outside of Crockercorp, there was no meaning to her mother. Had Jane not been appointed as the heiress, she would cease to exist. In the face of the woman whose eyes could only see profit, what was the point in arguing liberties and platitudes? She would sooner have success feeding a lion a salad.

She plucked at her phone restlessly now. These injustices were precisely why she had resolved to tough things out for the time being, so that she could implement a series of much-needed improvements once she inherited the seat to power. That goal just seemed so far away now--and lonely. Most people had at least one friend to consult, didn't they? She had only mercenaries.

Mercenaries. People at her beck and call to fulfill any requests she made. People she still wanted to--did--consider her friends, who she had seen just last night and greatly enjoyed! She could justify any social activities involved with the excuse that she was only making them do their job. Let the blame fall on her shoulders, on her moments of weak boredom and loneliness that they were demanded of to entertain! In reality, she doubted her mother would care much what she did with her three "employees" as long as they were safely considered expendable. It was the lack of privacy that pricked annoyances at her. But perhaps that could be resolved.

She unlocked her phone and promptly dialed for Chez Crocker.

"Sarah-Joan? Good afternoon. Can you see that Miss Lalonde is available for a meeting? I'd like to drop by this evening and pay her a visit. Thank you."

If Roxy could steal files from Skaia Net, why couldn't she disable some Crockercorp surveillance? Jane was helpless about those sort of things, but in her grooming for the leadership role she would assume, there had been plenty she had digested about delegation. If she was unable to do something, then simply find someone else who would handle the job. How fitting that the person in mind was provided by her mother.

Emboldened by a renewed sense of determination, Jane hurried into the bathroom and started the shower. She wasn't going to be caught looking like a ragamuffin at Chez Crocker! It was faux pas to not put in the effort to look presentable when she was in charge of the place. And she didn't want to explain her doldrums beneath those wide and lively eyes of Roxy's when she arrived--or chance anyone else as witness, either.

Within minutes, Jane had freshened herself up. She brushed her hair into place and spritzed a light fragrance on her and her white dress. A dusting of makeup and a touch of red lipstick made her seem ready for a girl's night out, even if she was intending to only sit with Roxy in bland rooms. A glamorous look often made for a glamorous feel, after all, and she wanted to feel the authority over herself she needed. She gave herself a nod in the mirror and then exited the bathroom with purposeful strides.

The casserole was ready and waiting in the oven, and she carefully extracted it with thick oven mitts. Wearing white in the kitchen was always risky, but Jane was practiced enough not to stain her clothes.

Substantial portions of cheesy goodness was spooned into her large tupperware dishes, and the heat of the food stung her hands as she carried it out; but she adamantly refused to release the container until she had phoned for a ride and was seated in the vehicle.

After years of dreaming, she had the means necessary to change her world. The wrongs could be righted. It was time to set the gears in motion.

Crockercorp would be redeemed.

* * *

In her short time at Chez Crocker, Roxy had grown to truly like her new acquaintances. For someone in line to take over a company with a cutthroat and unethical reputation, Jane was certainly friendlier and homier than she had imagined. And for all of the stories she had heard and movies she had seen, the modern day mercenary didn't seem all that rife with insane and unapproachable people. She found Jake to be a charming gentleman, easy to get along with, and full of humor and vigor. He was a blinding contrast to Dirk, whose dry wit and sharp intellect tended to cut straight to the heart of the matter; but for all of his public display of indifference, the man was just another eccentric nerd with interests of his own. Once you were used to him, he wasn't so bad.

Dirk was, in fact, soft in his own way, Roxy mused. It was a defense mechanism for him to wall himself off and process events. She was familiar with that in some way, having done it herself a handful of times; they manifested it differently, but otherwise shared the same trait. In that regard, it was easy to talk to Dirk, to understand when to back off and give him time, and to learn when it was still safe to push and joke and share what was on her mind.

That was exactly what she was doing now.

Curled up in her chair, Roxy basked in the light of her computer. Her room again was otherwise dark, but she didn't mind it. She had been chatting with Dirk for the whole of an hour, mostly exchanging questions about hobbies again, when her phone rang.

Caller: Chez Crocker.

Bugger.

"Hello?"

"Good afternoon, Miss Lalonde. I'm to inform you that Miss Crocker is on her way to see you soon."

"Oh, cool. Like, really soon?"

"She specified this evening. Miss Crocker typically starts her evenings at six."

"Alright, thanks. I'll be ready!"

She regarded her phone pensively after the call.

While she liked Jane, it was strange to be visited this late, and she hadn't been notified of any impending assignments. After their fun party last night, Roxy had expected for things to return to business-only. The debt had been repaid. What more was required?

With curiosity heavy on her mind, Roxy placed her phone on the desk and returned to her chat.

TG: hey sorry  
TG: i got a call  
TG: janeys coming over spoon  
TG: *soon  
TT: Another mission?  
TG: didn't say  
TG: anyways i still got time to chat  
TG: front desk lady said around 6  
TG: plentry of time for you to educate me bout your brobots  
TG: *plenty  
TG: *robots  
TT: Brobots has a ring to it.  
TG: lol put the bro in robo  
TT: There isn't much left to say, anyways.  
TT: I won't know if the connectors are the issue until the parts come in.  
TG: when do those get here  
TT: When I order them.  
TG: come on dirk you havent even ordered them yet???  
TG: way to keep a girl waiting  
TT: It requires me to talk to the front desk.  
TT: I don't feel like talking out loud right now.  
TG: oh  
TG: why dont i just do it for you when i go down to meet janey  
TT: Do you know what to order?  
TG: no but gimme the list and ill pass it on  
TT: Are you sure?  
TG: ya its no prob for me  
TG: im your gal for submitting orsers  
TG: *orders  
TT: Alright. Thanks.  
TG: sure  
TG: hey  
TG: did you think anymore bout the thing i kffeefd  
TG: *offeres  
TG: **offered smh  
TT: You've offered several things recently.  
TG: you know what i mean dkir  
TG: *dirk  
TT: Are you drinking again?  
TG: no im just using one hand cause i gotta eat some chips  
TT: Nice.  
TT: I have thought about it.  
TG: annndd?  
TT: I'm up for it.  
TG: you mean it?  
TT: Yes.  
TG: yeeAAHH i'll get right on it after im all done with janey  
TG: it will be all i do until i succeed  
TT: It still bothers me that I can't offer you anything of equal value.  
TG: dirk we already talked bout tjis  
TG: *this  
TG: it's something i want to do, you don't need to do anythin  
TG: its not like this is some deal an you gotta oay  
TG: *pay  
TT: It is a deal, in a way. A big deal.  
TG: nah no sweat i got it  
TG: give me somethin to do while i wait for the next job and all  
TT: Alright.  
TG: i'll be honest though i didnt expect you to agree, you seemed hella unsure when i first brought it up  
TT: I didn't feel right asking for it, but I need some answers.  
TT: When we were in Chicago, I realized I couldn't get it out of my head.  
TG: since we were in a skaia nert building and all you mean?  
TG: *net  
TT: Yeah. I kept wondering if I'd see him there, as ridiculous as that sounds.  
TG: no i understand completely  
TG: id be doin the same ting  
TG: *thing  
TG: jeebus i gotta finish these chips  
TT: It's fine.  
TG: thx for being nice about it  
TG: have you talked much to jake yet  
TT: No. Why?  
TT: I don't have him added on Pesterchum yet.  
TG: just wonderin  
TG: he seemed alright last night but  
TG: idk there was something strange back in chicago  
TT: What do you mean?  
TT: Something stranger than him shooting someone?  
TG: well thats the thing  
TG: okay so you wrre ahead of us cause you were running to jane  
TG: and we caight up afterwards  
TG: *were  
TG: *caught  
TT: Right.  
TG: well after jack weng down, jake wasnt going to stop  
TG: *went  
TG: ugh  
TT: Don't worry about it.  
TG: yeah forget it for once  
TG: anyways he was mumblubg somethin under his breath and being relly weird, and i swear he was going to shoot you too because he didnt put the gun away or anythin  
TG: he was standing there aiming again saying stuff like not this time, over an over  
TG: im pretty sure he was goung to shoot again if i hadnt snapped him out of it  
TG: like i had to make him d rop the gun and get in his face  
TG: annd then he just came back to reality and was like omg what happened, what happpened to jane  
TG: like the guy wasnt even in there havin ptsd or sometbing  
TG: dirk are you even listenin  
TG: am i typoing to no one  
TT: I'm here.  
TT: It doesn't make much sense. He seemed fine by the time you two caught up.  
TG: ya well he wasnt right before he got there thats the thing  
TT: I haven't noticed anything strange about him since we've been back. Have you?  
TG: no but  
TG: idk i guess keep an eye on him  
TG: its hard to imagine him being dangerous or anyting but damn that shot, it was supoer quick and he didnt miss did he  
TT: I did get to look inside up close. If he meant to aim for the head, he hit the target perfectly.  
TG: like can you imagine havin to face the guy in an old fashioned drawer  
TG: *draw  
TT: I'm not exactly a marksman, but no.  
TG: well i am and that was hella far to be shooting how he did  
TG: like what if he turned and did that to one of us  
TT: Point taken.  
TT: I'll make a note to be aware of his movements.  
TG: yeah i don't think hes gonna shoot us and he seems like a normal goofy guy but just  
TG: something seemed a little off you know  
TG: anyways i gotta head down cuz janey should be here any minute and i want to hide in the plants and scare the jeebus outta her again  
TT: Have fun.  
TG: i will, shes easy to scare lol  
TG: i'll get started on our project when i get back and i'll let you know how it goes  
TT: Okay.  
TG: ttyl  
TT: Later.

With some effort, Roxy put the subject matter of her conversation with Dirk aside, and discarded the now-empty plastic bag that once had been filled with cheddar-flavored chips. She was still hungry, but it would have to wait if she had any hope of beating Jane into the lobby. The woman was nothing if not punctual.

The elevator ride down to the ground floor was uneventful, and Roxy idly toyed with the buttons on the panel during the short descent. A smirk curled onto her lips as she emerged from the elevator and saw only the woman at the front desk.

"Don't mind me," she greeted the receptionist--what was her name? Sarah?--as she hurried into the corner and positioned herself behind a large and sprawling array of decorative foliage. To her surprise, the wide and thick leaves were real, the scent of moist soil drifting into her nostrils, a testament of the wealth Crockercorp could afford. This wasn't some cheap hotel with fake bushes gathering dust against the wall.

The woman at the front desk was a true professional, with not a hint of evidence at what she had just seen. Roxy bit hard down on her lip to quench a mischievous giggle as Jane arrived and entered the lobby, attired in what Roxy thought was a killer outfit for her, and a noticeably hefty dish of food in her arms.

Her stomach threatened to expose her with an impending growl, and she sucked in her belly and tightened it quickly. She couldn't be caught now, not when she was so close!

"Good evening, Sarah-Joan." Ah, that was her name!

"Good evening, Miss Jane."

"Has Roxy come down yet or shall I go up to meet her?"

Oh. Well, she hadn't considered that Jane would actually enter the upper floors and directly visit her. Roxy swallowed a lump of uncertainty. If all went according to plan, Jane would wait for her and sit on the sofa right in front of the plants, facing away and toward the window as she usually did; but if she went up using the elevator, it would ruin her ability to surprise the woman. Everything hinged on Sarah-Joan's response.

For someone with such a warm and unassuming demeanor, Sarah-Joan had one of the best poker faces Roxy had ever seen.

"She just passed by, Miss Jane. I think she went to the bathroom. You might want to sit and wait a minute until she comes back."

Although Sarah-Joan never once even looked in her general direction, Roxy knew she was in on it. It made her grin wider. She held her breath as Jane crossed the room and settled herself and the tupperware onto the furniture. Only then, now close enough to truly read her face, did Roxy see the telltale signs of stress against the edges of Jane's eyes and along her jaw. This meeting was most likely not for fun.

Well, there was no harm in having fun before things started, then. Roxy crept her way out from behind the plants, pressed low in a spidery crouch along the glossy floor, and inched her way over to Jane. Silently, she extended herself up until she stood just behind the dark-haired woman. Her eyes darted to the side at Sarah-Jane, who was determinedly concentrated on her computer screen, and then back down to Jane.

With a speed that only amplified the shock value, Roxy clapped her hands down on Jane's shoulders and yelled right into her ear.

"Boo!"

"God!" Jane startled forward away from her and tripped onto an ottoman. "Dam--Roxy!" She huffed as she clambered back onto her feet and straightened her dress. Suspicion clearly painted onto her face, she glanced at the front desk, only to see Sarah-Joan return the look with a sweet smile.

An excellent play.

"Oh, whatever," Jane groaned.

Roxy beamed at her, pleased. Jane was too easy to scare. It was this sort of harmless fun that, when left unpunished, made Roxy feel a bit more at home and accepted. It was one more thing to dissuade her from thinking of Jane exclusively as a business superior.

"So what's up, Janey?" She leaned on the backrest of the sofa and let her eyes drift curiously back and forth between Jane and the tupperware. This time, her stomach growled despite her best efforts to silence it, and she coughed humorously at the noise. "Caught me right at dinner time!"

She had only eaten chips earlier because that was all she had left. So when Jane opened the dish and revealed mouthwatering scents and sights of cheesy casserole, Roxy was delighted to learn that it was brought with intention to share.

"I thought we could have dinner together while I discussed some things with you," Jane suggested.

"Hell yeah! Is this more of your rad cooking?" It was hard not to drool and dig in immediately, steam and lack of utensils notwithstanding.

"Indeed it is! There was too much for just me, so I brought some to share. Do you have spoons or forks in your room?"

"I've got some plastic spoons," she offered, grateful for the small stash from when she had last ordered pudding cups. Come to think of it, had she ever ordered any actual food since she arrived, or had it all been snacks?

"That will do. Would you mind us eating in your room? I had some… private matters on my mind."

Roxy recognized the unmistakable expression of paranoia on Jane's face now. This was a personal meeting. With the offer of food, and a face-to-face interaction, it was hard not to think Jane was here to make some sort of request. Not that Roxy minded if she was, but this wasn't how she expected her employer to behave when there was a task to do.

"Yeah, no problem."

Eager to sate her physical appetite as well as her curiosity, Roxy motioned for Jane to follow her, and they took the elevator to the second floor. Once they were inside, Roxy flipped on the lights and blinked her eyes back into focus as Jane did the same.

"Pardon the mess," she muttered apologetically. "You're my first visitor actually in here and I get kind of lazy."

Empty bags of chips were haphazardly strewn about one corner of the room. Bottles of wine were partially concealed by her bed at one end, and her computer desk was covered in papers and small gadgets. Clothes littered the ground, and wrappers piled high in her trash can. But beside all this, Roxy knew there wasn't actually much mess as there was little she owned. Most of her private belongings were hidden underneath her bed in locked trunks, half of that stored on digital media. She was just being self-conscious.

Jane only shrugged. "I don't mind. Where should I set this food?"

Every room was stocked with a kitchenette, but Roxy had ignored it until now. In fact, she still had no use for it; all of her food had been kept near her bed and computer for convenience's sake, and that was where her stash of disposable spoons was, too.

"On the bed, if you don't mind me shoving the covers over and making this the table and chair all in one!"

"It's…" Not what she was used to, Roxy could imagine her say, but Jane swallowed any possible such response and said finally, "Alright."

They situated themselves on the bed with crossed legs. Roxy was the first to rip open the plastic and grab her spoon, hunch over the warm casserole, and dig into it. Instantly she was overcome with pleasure. Jane was an excellent cook, and the food was rich and filling, which was exactly what her hungry cravings had demanded.

"My taste buds are doing this amazing rave," she mumbled with a mouth full of food. "Oh my gosh, Janey, this is incredible."

"It is good comfort food," Jane agreed, spooning careful bites into her own mouth. Those words pulled Roxy's attention onto her guest. She swallowed another mouthful of sausage, potato, and cheese, and leaned back for a moment.

"This definitely hits all the comfort spots, but you didn't make this just for me, did you?" It was a bold move to pry like this, and Roxy didn't expect much of a reply; but Jane had come to her, and here they were in her own private room. There had to be something amiss.

Jane scraped at a mound of casserole until it fell apart on the bottom of the dish. She heaved out a sigh and abandoned her spoon, hands falling into her lap. All refined business airs relinquished for the present, she looked as lost and forlorn as Roxy often felt.

"This may be remiss of me, but I'd like to ask a favor of you, Roxy," Jane began, painstakingly choosing her words. "It… has come to my attention recently that my mother and I do not, and probably will not ever, see eye to eye on some things. One of those things pertains to my personal relationships."

There was then a pause, and Roxy spooned more casserole into her mouth as she considered what Jane had said so far. She was reminded of some of the personal details Jane had revealed last night during the drinking game, and the more she thought about it, the more it seemed Jane had missed out on many things due to a controlling mother. It made sense, of course, in scope of the bigger picture; one didn't inherit something as massive and complex as Crockercorp without proper upbringing and protection. Still, no wonder Jane looked so miserable now.

"You don't get to have much fun, huh," she observed aloud.

"No, I should say not," Jane agreed. "Do you know that last night was my first dinner party with friends? That is--well--"

Roxy couldn't help but smile at that. She wiggled her spoon in the air at Jane's stammering and cooed. "Aww, you think we're friends? That's sweet of you, Janey! I was thinking you were pretty cool too, but didn't want to overstep, what with you being the boss and all, you know? But it makes me so happy to hear that you like us!"

If she was honest with herself, Roxy was more relieved than flattered--more surprised than pleased. It spoke volumes to her about Jane's character, that the woman who could have almost anything would generously stoop to someone like her and take a personal interest. She was a nobody filling in a lowly role--someone scraping by in life by doing some odd jobs. Friendship was inherently a special thing. To be friends with someone as put-together and high on the chain as Jane--it was unthinkable. Yet here they were, with her catering to the woman's emotional needs on a bed, sharing a home cooked meal, like they had been close friends for years.

She could get used to this. At the same time, her conscience nagged at her and told her she didn't deserve this; she squashed that voice down and convinced herself that this wasn't about her, so it was okay. This was for Jane, and it was right to help someone else who needed it. And what Jane needed now was some support, and Roxy was going to give it to her.

"I owe you--and Jake and Dirk--a great deal. But I do find myself having been quickly attached to you all, debt aside. Maybe because you all are the first group of people my age I've been able to spend time with, although it feels more like it's so nice to simply be around you all. I noticed this when we were in Chicago. Watching you all interact so pleasantly with each other made it seem like you were all friends already, and I wanted to be part of that."

This admission caused Roxy some self-reflection. She had wanted so badly to feel accepted and to get along with her teammates that she had talked up a storm during the trip. Jake had suffered the brunt of her pestering and talkativeness, as he was more outspoken than the rest of them, but she had given Dirk a fair share of her thoughts as well. The only reason she hadn't really included Jane was because she had been too afraid to approach someone so important. And she had felt a guilt later, when it had been just her in that grand hotel room, knowing that she had essentially used everyone around her to make herself feel better. How had Jane viewed that as anything good? Did she not know how likely the others had been annoyed at her constant socializing?

"You don't owe me anything, Janey," she said softly, eyes on the bed. "Jake was the one who saved you. Anyone can do a bunch of talking. You're a special person, a real lady; you could be friends with anyone you wanted to, I bet."

"But that's just it," Jane insisted, commanding Roxy's attention. She maintained eye contact long enough to see how serious the other woman was, until the intensity made her drop her gaze back down, and she could only listen.

"It's no secret how large or influential my mother or her company is. That company will be mine one day. I will have the world at my fingertips, and thousands of staff and resources at my disposal. Already I am in possession of millions. I can have any _thing_ that I want, but I've never had a friend! I've never had a casual outing, or lunch, or party, or game with anyone for _fun_ until you and Jake and Dirk entered the picture! And not for lack of trying!"

If anyone fit the meaning of the quote, "Money can't buy happiness," it was probably Jane. Roxy pressed her lips together thoughtfully, woefully speechless. Her own perspective would never offer the understanding of Jane's world. She had lost everything important to her so early, and how could that compare to someone on the other end of the spectrum? But even she had known a friend or two in times past. How could someone like Jane not?

"How are people not falling over themselves trying to schmooze up to you?" Roxy laughed weakly, but there was no real humor in it. It was a hollow sound, that laugh, one which Jane echoed.

"Indeed. A wonder." Jane suddenly stabbed her spoon into the heart of the casserole and shoved it into her mouth with aggression. She repeated the action several times until her cheeks puffed with the food, and she fought to swallow it down. Roxy would have laughed at the sight--like a rodent preparing to hibernate--were it not for the moisture she saw collecting in the creases of Jane's eyes.

"You okay?"

"Yes. I--no. I…" Jane sighed heavily and studied her spoon for answers. "I suppose there's no point in beating around the bush, seeing as I'm here and have said what I've said.

"I spoke to my mother this morning and in the process of giving her the report on our trip to Chicago, she reaffirmed her viewpoint that you--this group, Team Alpha--well--we're not to be friends. She called you all tools, of all things, and said I needed to get a grip on things, more or less."

The only thing more prominent than the disgust on Jane's face was the disappointment. Missing a mother figure herself, if a bit more literally, Roxy could understand that, at least. It was hard enough when a good person let you down, but it was nearly unbearable when that person was someone you depended on and looked up to--or were supposed to, at least.

None of that explained much of why Jane was here, however, unless this pity party of a dinner date was an act of rebellion. Somehow, Roxy doubted it was that simple.

"Wouldn't she get mad if she knew you were here telling me all this over dinner, then?"

It was a fair question, but Jane bristled at it.

"Most certainly. But that's partly why I'm here. There are few things my mother doesn't learn eventually, but that is due to her invasive technology. I was hoping your skills might lend a hand in disabling some of that surveillance for myself."

So that was it. Roxy ate another generous spoonful of food and savored it while she thought of how best to respond. Her surprise could not be overstated. This was the heiress to Crockercorp, and she was asking to remove one of her greatest technological advantages. No one appreciated being spied on, of course, but this went beyond simplistic rebellion. It wouldn't be hard for her mother to figure out who had done it, and where did that leave her?

If she was fired, things would go back to the way they were before. It was manageable. But seeing how quickly things could devolve after what had happened to Jack, it was hard for Roxy not to imagine a consequence with more finality.

Still, Jane considered her a friend, and she liked Jane herself. Letting a friend down was not something Roxy Lalonde did. She failed enough as it was. Here was her chance to do something right--for Dirk and for Jane.

"I can do it."

"Really?" That sparkle of hope in Jane's eyes sealed the deal.

"Yep! I've already debugged my own room and stuff, actually! I know the contract says it's private in here but it's actually not. I went ahead and helped the guys with their rooms, too. Sorry for not asking."

"Oh no, you all deserve some privacy!"

"I'd hope so! Not like I do much but I don't want some creeper watching me use the bathroom or sleep, you know?"

"Mmhm."

"So did you bring your phone or something?"

"I almost did, but I left it in the car. I've become a bit paranoid over the course of the day."

"Yeah, I bet! It gets to you after a while, being tracked. How about we finish dinner and I'll go down and fix stuff for you?"

"That would be most helpful. Thank you, Roxy. I do have to ask, would you be able to come to my house and conduct the same task? I fear my mother has bugged my house as well. She was aware of our party last night."

"Guess it's good we didn't actually drink then, huh!"

"Yes, I agree."

"But yeah, I can do that! Let me just grab a couple of things before we go. By the way, did I mention this casserole is bomb? You're going to make me fat, Janey!"

"You're a stick, Roxy!"

"Psh, not for long. I'm going to eat this entire thing if you let me." Or so she thought. The casserole was richer than Roxy has anticipated, and even with Jane's additional efforts, they only cleared half of the tupperware. Oh well. More for one of them later.

She put together a small bag of supplies for the task at hand and had the forethought to message Dirk and ask him for that list of parts to order before they departed. On their way out of the lobby, Roxy passed the order on to Sarah-Joan, explicitly noting it was for Dirk, and she followed Jane out into the parking lot where her vehicle was still waiting.

The ride to Jane's house was different after sunset, the city fading into a twinkling backdrop for a neighborhood located on a hill. Overlooking that sprawling cityscape was Jane's house, the entry light glowing in the late evening, and Roxy wondered if it was possible to get bored of seeing this every day. Jane seemed numb to it all while she entered the keycode and let them in.

It was then that Roxy turned her attention to the appliances and electronic devices with more scrutiny than she had previously. There had been no doubt that Crockercorp had been digitally present last night, but now Jane had identified that presence as unwanted. To Roxy, any surveillance was now the enemy.

She scoured the house as Jane returned outside to instruct the driver that Roxy would need a ride home. Nothing was left unturned. She had disarmed one camera in the living space and three in the kitchen by the time Jane came back inside.

"How is it going?"

"Shh, hold on," Roxy hissed, not wanting to divulge her actions into any potential recording equipment left around. She moved on to the more intimate rooms, ridding the bathroom and bedrooms of any devices, then moved back into the dining space where Jane was seated, idly poking at her phone. It was time to deal with that.

"What's your wifi info?" She asked, rooting through her bag for her laptop.

"Here, it's easier for me to type than to say..."

With Jane's assistance, she accessed the network and began adjusting things as per Jane's request. There was no going back now, and it was only a matter of time until Jane's mother realized the virtual blackout around her daughter. The question then would be how the two handled it, the consequences for Roxy notwithstanding.

"Is your mom going to freak out now that you've done this?" It was a bit late to ask that question, but Roxy voiced it more to let Jane know the deed was done than out of concern.

"I doubt she'll realize right away. I might hear from her about it at the week's end. In any case, she will be upset, but she'll have to concede eventually. I can always move out or ask you to do it again. I doubt she'd confront me in person, and it's easy to ignore her at a distance."

"And you don't think she'll just get rid of me?"

That question was not so pointless, but Jane didn't answer. The woman only frowned in Roxy's direction, seemingly focused on a spot just past her, eyes distant. Apparently she hadn't considered that possibility.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Jane's answer wasn't remotely reassuring. But she had survived worse, Roxy told herself, and she could come out on top of whatever Crockercorp threw at her.

"I'll have to kick her ass if she tries, I guess."

"That would be quite a sight!"

They shared a laugh, though it was more to bolster their spirits than anything. Roxy had worked at hiding behind a fake smile for most of her life, and she wore it well now, but unease did gnaw at the back of her mind.

She was skilled and resilient, but Jane's mother had been the one who had recruited her. Who was to say that someone else just as formidable, if not better, couldn't be hired to erase her? There obviously were others--Jake, with his impressive marksmanship; and who knew what feats Dirk could perform? All the more reason to keep them close as allies, even if the motive felt indecent.

Survival always seemed to take precedence.

Jane then offered to entertain her for a while, clearly hoping for more company, but as tempting as it was to spend the rest of the young night watching chick flicks and indulging in desserts, Roxy had already promised her assistance to Dirk. It wouldn't be right to goof off while there was still something so important left undone.

In the event of any questions or needed help in the future--or just to chat, as Jane had expressed a desire to do--Roxy explained how to install Pesterchum and add her as a contact. Once that was done, she insisted that she get back to Chez Crocker, and bid Jane goodnight.

As Jane waved to her from the front door, Roxy slipped into the back seat of the vehicle waiting in the driveway. She once more took in the sights of the city slowly blinking itself to sleep in the darkness, a sea of clouds sailing overhead and floating past a crescent moon, as the car glided down smoothly paved hills.

Never had she dreamed of living in a world like this. The world of the rich and powerful, the celebrities, the ones with the future in their hands (and bank accounts)--it had always been so far off, like a fairy tale told to children when they were still open-minded enough to believe they could one day be anyone they wanted to be, like she had believed she could climb the capitalist castes with her mother one day. Like many others, she had never actually achieved that dream. In a way, she never would--not as she had imagined. But she had reached that world now, however differently; and while she didn't feel like it was genuinely hers, Jane had managed to make her feel like it was okay for her to borrow a little corner of it.

While Crockercorp and the woman currently in its seat of power were iconically wicked and detestable, a monster to be dethroned, it was difficult to associate Jane with it all. If anything, Roxy felt that she owed Jane for opening doors of opportunity she had long thought forever closed to her.

It was strange how complicated everything had become. She wasn't used to having this many options or this much hope. A month ago, she had been shoplifting and dumpster diving in alleyways to fill her belly, courting sleazeballs in exchange for a roof over her head at some hole-ridden motel. Now she was being driven back to a private suite, clean and safe and neatly furnished, with more money to her name than she had ever dreamed--and that was just for a couple of easy jobs! And what would come next?

She thanked the driver for the ride as she exited the vehicle and made her way back into Chez Crocker and up to her room. It was as she left it, the lights off and the computer screen a pale sheet aglow in the darkness.

As she settled in her chair and pulled up to the desk, Roxy opened Pesterchum and messaged Dirk.

TG: hey dirk, you there?  
TT: Yeah.  
TT: Have fun?  
TG: i guess so  
TT: You sound unsure.  
TG: well janey brought some bombbass casserole  
TG: the woman can COOOK omg  
TG: but she actually came over to ask me for a favir  
TG: *favor  
TT: That's unexpected.  
TG: ya tell me bout it  
TG: she wanted me to debug her pjone and house  
TG: *phone  
TT: Interesting. Trouble in paradise?  
TG: somethin like that  
TG: anyways im back now so whaddya say we get crackin on this prokect of ours  
TG: *project  
TT: What is this?  
TG: omg its a call, dirk  
TG: andwer the call so i dont have to tab back and forth shile i work  
TG: *answer  
TG: *while  
TG: you dont gotta cam or nothin just aNSWER  
TT: Alright.

It was nearly four in the morning by the time Roxy could no longer focus on lines of code and other text. She lowered her head into her arms on the desk as she listened to Dirk tinker with another mechanical project, and wondered how the man seemed so unaffected by sleep deprivation.

"Dirk," she slurred into her arms, her voice muffled.

"Mmhm."

"How are you still awake."

"I have insomnia."

"Oh."

She breathed in deeply and yawned into the crook of her elbow. It was a challenge to stay awake like this, but she didn't want to leave the call, even if it was uncomfortable to be pressed into the edges of her chair and desk.

After a few more minutes, she betrayed herself and slowly gave in to the idea of sleep.

"Dirk."

"Mmhm?"

"I think I'm fallin' asleep."

"Okay. Do you need me to hang up?"

That he had asked at all instead of saying goodnight made Roxy wonder if Dirk was ever lonely too. She knew she was at night, when the quiet and lifeless hours worked her mind over with memories of the past. And if he was anything like her in that respect, then maybe he would understand why she didn't want to end the call. Maybe he didn't want to either.

"...No."

Dirk didn't reply, but the call continued, and she listened to the gentle clinks and thumps of metal on his desk as he worked. She pictured him in his tank top and sweats, hunched over an array of parts, with the glow of the computer reflected in his shades. If only she could fall asleep watching him, as if the image would keep bad dreams at bay; but she had said that there would be no cameras, and she was too tired to talk much more.

On the verge of sleep, she mumbled one last time as her eyelids fluttered heavily down against her cheeks and rested there.

"Dirk."

"Yeah."

"Night night."

"G'night," she heard him reply, and Roxy let herself pass out then, curled halfway out of her chair and along her desk, soothed by the lullaby of Dirk's work and the knowledge that someone was still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I have to type span class one more time I'm going to die


End file.
